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A  Book 
of  Memories 

1842-1920 


B37 

Washington  Bryan  Crumpton 

28  Years  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the 
Baptist  Mission  Board  of  Alabama 


Montgomery,  Ala.: 

BAPTIST    MISSION  BOARD 

1921 


Jdebtcatton 

To  the  Loyal  Baptist  Men  and  Women  of  Alabama, 

I  affectionately  dedicate  so  much  of  the  Memories  as  pertain 
to  Denominational  Work  and  History 


One-half  of   the  children   God  has   given  me  are   in  heaven 
with  their  Noble  Mother; 

To   the  other  five:     Matilda   Edwards,   Martha  Washington 

Shelburn,  Claudia  Evangeline  Crumpton,  Washington 

Bryan    and    Robert    Cochran    Crumpton, 

I  dedicate  that  part  of  these  Memories  which  relate  to 
me   personally. 


(iii) 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


Part  One: 

Period  of  Boyhood  to  18. 

Part  Two: 

Period  of  Travel, 

To  California  and  Return. 

Part  Three : 

Period  of  the  Civil  War. 

Part  Four: 

Call  to  the  Ministry. 

Part  Five: 

Period  in  the  Ministry. 

Part  Six: 

Miscellanea,  v^hich  includes : 
The  Story  of  Prohibition. 
A  Half  Century  of  Howard  College. 
Bailey  and  Colportage. 
First  and  last  Religious  Controversy. 

HISTORICAL: 

Part  Seven: 

Tennessee  Valley  and  Mountain  Baptists. 
Some  Preachers  and  Laymen  I  Have  Known. 

Part  Eight : 

Central  Alabama  Baptists. 

Some  Preachers  and  Laymen  I  Have  Known. 

Part  Nine : 

Baptists  of  South  Alabama. 

Some  Preachers  and  Laymen  I  Have  Known. 


(v) 


INTRODUCTORY 


To  write  a  fitting  Introduction  to  this  charming  life- 
story,  is  out  of  the  question  on  my  part.  And  yet,  I 
would  gladly  emphasize  on  the  fact  which  is  every- 
where apparent,  the  Hand  of  God  Leading.  How  it 
stands  out  every  where.  Surely  "God  has  a  plan  for 
every  life." 

As  one  reads  the  rise  and  growth  of  the  Methodists 
in  the  18th  century,  he  is  constantly  impressed  with  the 
use  made  of  Religious  Biography. 

Men  of  all  kinds  wrote  and  had  others  to  write,  tell- 
ing what  God  had  done  and  could  do  for  poor  lost  sin- 
ners. In  this  way  the  country  was  flooded  with  the 
literature  of  experience  and  thousands  were  led  to 
Christ. 

On  that  account,  I  am  glad  that  Brother  Crumpton 
has  put  into  shape  this  story,  covering  many  years  and 
having  to  do  with  almost  every  part  of  our  State. 
Many  shall  be  led  to  see  his  Lord  and  learn  to  look  for 
His  Guiding  Hand.  He  has  set  out  the  facts  that 
need  to  be  seen,  in  order  to  interpret  his  life. 

His  Youth,  so  bouyant  and  hopeful ;  his  Conversion, 
with  its  lights  and  shadows ;  his  travels  and  God's 
keeping  care;  His  Call  to  the  Ministry;  is  worthy  of 
deep  and  most  reverent  thoughtfulness.  How  God  led, 
watched  and  made  use  of  others  to  help  him  to  enter 
the  open  door ;  his  pastorates,  so  peaceful  and  hopeful ; 
his  call  to  the  Secretaryship  and  his  long,  laborious  and 
useful  life  therein  and,  finally  his  laying  off  the  close- 
fitting  harness  for  the  quiet  and  comforts  of  a  mellow 
evening — all  this  and  much  more,  in  which  is  seen  the 
Guiding  Eye,  Shepherding  Hand  and  the  changeless 
love  of  God.    This  is  what  I  would  emphasize. 


(vii) 


I  first  saw  him  in  Georgetown  College.  He  was 
fresh  from  the  war  and  I  from  the  farm  in  Missouri ; 
an  unseen  Hand  had  led  us  there. 

His  vivacity,  good  cheer,  happy  heart  and  tender 
sympathy,  made  him  a  universal  favorite  and  every- 
body loved  him. 

But  bye  and  bye,  he  left  us.  Then,  after  fifteen 
years,  we  met  again. 

The  Baptists  of  Alabama  needed  a  Secretary  and  the 
duty  of  finding  one  was  laid  on  Judge  Jonathan  Haral- 
son, J.  M.  Frost  and  myself. 

The  Board  put  the  burden  on  him  and  from  that 
hour,  he  laid  hold  of  the  mighty  task. 

As  Lloyd-George  lately  said  of  English  politics,  he 
could  well  say:  ''Whichever  way  we  walk  now,  we 
soon  find  ourselves  in  a  fog."  Difficulties  were  every- 
where, but  under  his  wise  and  patient  efiforts,  the  diffi- 
culties were  overcome,  the  Baptists  of  the  State  be- 
came united  and  a  genuine  enthusiasm  prevailed. 

His  hand  of  uplift  was  strong.  I  doubt  if  the  peo- 
ple will  ever  know,  how  strong  he  was  in  helping  to 
maintain  the  Howard  and  the  Judson,  in  keeping  alive 
the  Alabama  Baptist,  in  arousing  the  spirit  of  Missions, 
in  encouraging  the  Woman's  Work,  the  B.  Y.  P.  U., 
the  Sunday  School  and  the  work  of  the  Anti-Saloon 
League.  God  has  greatly  honored  him  and  now,  with 
the  work  behind  him,  he  is  easily  one  of  the  first  citi- 
zens of  his  native  State.  But  why  say  more?  Let  him 
speak  for  himself  in  "A  Book  of  Memories." 

A.  C.  DAVIDSON. 


(viii) 


FOREWORD 


My  good  friend,  Dr.  L.  O.  Dawson,  the  long-time 
bishop  of  Tuskaloosa,  in  a  letter,  put  it  this  way  to 
me :  "You  owe  it  to  the  brethren  to  write  an  auto-bi- 
ography which  would  not  only  give  the  leading  points 
in  your  life,  but  the  important  periods  in  the  life  of 
the  Baptists  of  Alabama,  for  the  last  fifty  years.  I 
hope  you  will  do  this,  for  such  a  volume  would  be  of 
use  and  value  to  all  the  State." 

I  had  thought  somewhat  of  it  before,  but  probably 
it  never  would  have  been  attempted,  but  for  his  let- 
ter. 

Often,  I  said  of  my  father,  who  lived  to  be  eighty- 
nine  :  "With  him  were  buried  historical  treasures  of 
family  and  State,  which  would  have  been  priceless  if 
I  had  only  had  the  patience  to  have  gotten  them  from 
him."  Now  that  I  am  growing  old,  perhaps  I  owe  it 
to  my  children,  my  friends  and  my  brethren,  to  delve 
into  the  nearly-forgotten  things  of  the  past  and  hand 
down  to  them  historical  data,  they  may  appreciate. 

These  papers  have  been  in  course  of  preparation  for 
near  three  years.  I  had  grave  doubts,  in  the  begin- 
ning, of  being  able  to  finish  them,  because  of  my  fee- 
ble health.  Many  a  night,  when  I  closed  the  office,  I 
put  the  MS.  carefully  away,  with  a  note  on  top,  telling 
what  to  do  if  I  never  saw  it  again.  My  earnest  prayer 
was  that  I  might  be  spared  to  finish  the  task. 

So,  here  I  am  at  the  last,  sending  the  story  to  pros- 
pective readers,  telling  them  of  a  few  of  the  ups  and 
downs  of  a  long  life. 

If  the  book  seems  scrappy,  please  remember,  it  was 
prepared  amid  constant  interruptions.  If  it  seems  ego- 
tistical, remember,  I  am  the  chap,  it  was  suggested  I 


(ix) 


should  write  about.  For  one  time  I  stuck  to  the  sub- 
ject. If  the  style  seems  simple  and  familiar,  remem- 
ber, it  was  prepared  especially  for  the  eyes  of  my  chil- 
dren, life-long  friends  and  their  children. 

If  one  given  to  criticism,  should  chance  to  look  into 
the  book,  he  will  find  a  wide-open  field  for  the  exercise 
of  his  gifts. 

A  publisher  wrote  asking  that  he  might  see  the 
manuscript  in  order  that  he  might  pass  on  its  "Lit- 
erary Merit,"  before  making  a  bid.  By  failing  to 
send  it,  I  plead  guilty  to  the  charge  of  perpetrating, 
on  an  unsuspecting  public,  a  book  without  "Literary 
Merit." 

My  Boyhood  story  and  travels  to  California  and  re- 
turn, ought  to  interest  the  young;  my  Military  Career, 
may  awaken  the  dim  recollections  of  the  few  old  Con- 
federates who  are  left.  It  will  seem  very  tame  to  the 
boys  who  went  over  seas  to  fight  the  Huns ;  but  let 
them  remember,  that  with  the  material  with  which  we 
had  to  fight,  we  made  a  record,  which  the  great  mili- 
tary peoples  of  the  earth,  much  admired. 

My  Call  to  the  Ministry  and  My  Ministry,  will  in- 
terest the  preachers  and  may  be  of  use  to  young  men 
entering  the  service  of  the  Master. 

The  Preachers  and  Laymen  I  have  known,  will  call 
to  mind  many  a  good  man,  who  lived  and  wrought  and 
passed  away,  to  be  forgotten  of  men,  but  whose  record 
is  on  high. 

Some  Noble  Women,  I  shall  name  only  a  few,  who 
brightened  the  old  world  as  they  passed  through. 

The  Mission  work  done  and  the  fields  where  it  was 
done  and  the  great  changes  that  have  come  over  the 
people  therein,  is  well  worthy  of  record. 

The  Story  of  Prohibition,  itself,  could  be  spun  out 
profitably  to  fill  a  separate  volume. 

The  Miscellanea — another  way  I  have  of  saying,  the 
Odds  and  Ends,  that  I  couldn't  fit  in  elsewhere — gives 


(X) 


the  reader  a  wide  field  from  which  to  choose  what  he 
would  read.  Probably  some  of  this  should  have  been 
left  out,  but  I  drew  my  bow  at  a  venture ;  some  arrows 
may  hit  the  mark. 

I  have  come  to  believe,  God  has  a  program  prepared 
for  every  one  of  His  children.  Knowing  the  end  from 
the  beginning,  He  has  made  provision  for  every  con- 
tingency that  can  possibly  arise.  He  doesn't  force 
any  one  to  drop  into  the  path  and  walk  it,  He  inclines 
them  by  His  spirit  to  choose  the  path.  If  it  seems  pre- 
sumptuous for  me  to  assume,  that  He  marked  out  my 
pathway,  remember,  I  am  not  at  the  beginning,  but 
nearing  the  end  of  the  way.  I  am  not  guessing  at  the 
course  of  a  life  that  may  be  lived,  but  I  am  stating 
facts  about  a  life  that  has  been  lived. 

I  make  no  boast,  but  firmly  and  humbly  believe,  I 
have  the  same  experience  God's  servant  had  when  he 
wrote :  "And  I  told  them  of  the  Hand  of  my  God, 
which  was  good  to  me."  We  have  greater  assurance 
of  the  Guiding  Hand  than  did  Nehemiah. 

This  view  of  the  matter,  has  been  my  inspiration, 
while  performing  the  task  and,  now  that  it  is  about 
accomplished,  it  affords  me  a  world  of  comfort.  That 
He  should  have  taken  a  sinful,  weak  and  careless  crea- 
ture like  me,  fills  me  with  deep  humility,  thanksgiving 
and  praise.  If  I  were  of  a  gushing  sort,  I  could  shout, 
as  I  write  these  words. 

"Finally  Brethren ;"  I  thank  God  for  letting  me  live 
so  long  in  the  beautiful  world  He  has  provided  for  the 
children  of  men ;  especially,  do  I  thank  him  for  letting 
me  do  a  little  something  for  His  name's  sake,  and  for 
the  multitude  of  friends  He  has  raised  up  for  me  as  I 
was  making  the  journey. 

W.  B.  CRUMPTON. 
Montgomery,  Ala.,  Jan.  1,  1921. 


(xi) 


AN  APPRECIATION 

At  the  very  brink  of  four-score  years,  the  writer 
passes  on  to  us,  glimpses  of  his  own  life  and  sketches 
of  people  he  has  known.  His  life  has  been  a  busy, 
fruitful  one,  and  his  years  of  successful  work  in  Ala- 
bama are  living  testimonials  of  personal  force  and 
magnetism.  All  up  and  down  the  State  he  has  gone, 
neither  fearing  the  winter's  cold  nor  summer's  heat, 
and  well  has  he  earned  his  place  in  the  hearts  of  the 
people — "Best  known  and  best  beloved."  A  life  given 
unreservedly  to  the  work,  whereunto  he  was  called. 

From  pioneer  work,  he  has  lived  to  see  Alabama 
taking  active  part  in  the  great  Seventy-Five  Million 
Campaign.  From  a  small  office  in  the  corner  of  his 
yard  in  Marion,  he  sees  a  nice  roomy  building,  which 
now  houses  the  State  Board  of  Missions,  the  W.  M.  U. 
work,  the  Sunday  School,  the  B.  Y.  P.  U.  and  the  Col- 
portage  Departments. 

Fie  has  seen  the  time  when  there  is  no  legal  sale  of 
liquor  in  the  whole  of  our  beautiful  U.  S.  A.,  and  is  the 
President  of  the  Anti-Saloon  League  of  Alabama, 
which  figured  largely  in  bringing  about  the  glorious 
result. 

All  these  things  crowded  into  one  life-time,  has  en- 
abled him  to  write  this  book.  It  will  be  largely  read 
and  treasured  by  his  friends,  who  are  legion. 

The  words  above  are  to  the  readers,  and  these  are  to 
the  writer :  "You  have  been  an  inspiration  and  help  to 
all  who  have  known  you.  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  an 
enlarged  appreciation  of  life  and  its  manifold  duties 
and  privileges  and  if,  upon  my  return  to  the  work  in 
China,  this  has  to  be  goodbye,  it  is  in  the  loving  hope 
of  a  joyful  meeting  in  the  gladness  of  our  dear  Lord 
and  Savior." 

WILLIE  H.  KELLY. 
Shanghai,  China. 

(xii) 


Part  One 

PERIOD  OF  BOYHOOD  TO 
EIGHTEEN 

CHAPTER  I. 

My  Parents,  I  Introduce  First. 

I  can  best  do  this,  by  skipping  over  a  period  of  forty 
years  and  relating  an  incident.  At  that  time,  my  wife 
presented  me  with  a  fine  pair  of  boys.  The  church  mem- 
bers came  from  far  and  near  to  see  the  pastor's  twins. 
An  old  sister  said,  "Brother  Crumpton,  tell  us  the 
names  of  the  boys."  In  reply,  I  said,  *'My  wife  left 
the  naming  to  me,  so  I  decided  one  should  bear  my 
own,  the  other  my  father's  initials."  Putting  my  hand 
on  the  smaller,  I  said,  "This  is  W.  B.  Crumpton,  Ju- 
nior. I  never  cared  for  Washington  in  my  name,  fact 
is,  I  always  despised  it.  Never  was  fond  of  anybody 
by  that  name.  The  boys  called  me  'Wash'  and  'Wash' 
it  will  be  to  the  end.  So  *W'  will  be  the  first  initial  for 
this  boy,  and  we  shall  decide  later  what  the  full  name 
will  be.    The  middle  name  is  Bryant,  for  my  mother." 

My  oldest  sister,  hearing,  said :  "Did  you  think  your 
mother  was  named  Bryant?  Leave  off  the  *t.' "  I  re- 
plied, "Certainly ;  I  lived,  when  a  boy,  with  Uncle 
Dickie  Bryant,  and  one  of  our  cousins  was  Bryant  Mc- 
Tnnis."    The  reply  was,  "But  I  lived,  when  but  a  child, 


2  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

with  grandfather  Bryan,  and  have  old  books  with  his 
name  written  in  them."  Whereupon  I  said  in  surprise, 
"Is  it  possible  I  am  forty  years  old  and  don't  know 
my  mother's  or  my  own  name?" 

After  they  had  laughed  a  bit,  the  suggestion  was 
made  that  maybe  I  was  just  as  badly  off  on  my  fath- 
ther's  name.  Quite  confidently,  I  replied,  "I  know  I  am 
right  on  the  other;  his  name  is  Henry  Tyler."  Then 
old  sister  raised  both  hands  with,  "Where  on  earth 
did  you  get  the  information  that  your  father  was 
named  Tyler?  His  name  was  Tally,  for  a  family  of 
kinspeople."  Then,  I  said,  'T  am  forty  years  old  and 
didn't  know  my  own,  my  father's  nor  my  mother's 
name." 

This  ignorance  can  be  accounted  for  by  my  being 
the  youngest  of  the  family.  The  home  was  broken  up, 
when  I  was  quite  young  and  I  was  cut  adrift. 

My  father  was  one  of  a  family  of  Cnimptons  of 
English  descent.  I  remember  his  brother  John,  who 
lived  in  Dallas  County,  a  Baptist  preacher,  who  before 
was  a  minister  among  the  Methodists.  He  was  the 
father  of  B.  H.  Crumpton.  Another  brother,  WilHam, 
moved  from  Lowndes  County  to  Mississippi  when  I 
was  a  small  boy.    They  all  came  from  South  Carolina. 

Reverend  A.  C.  Ramsey,  a  Methodist  minister,  of 
Oak  Hill,  in  an  obituary  published  in  the  Camden  pa- 
per about  my  mother,  Matilda  Smith  Bryan,  said,  "She 
was  the  daughter  of  Reverend  Richard  Bryan,  Colle- 
ton District,  Edisto  Circuit.  He  was  a  soldier  in  the 
Revolutionary  War,  and  afterwards  an  efficient  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel  in  the  M.  E.  Church,  an  account  of 
whose  life  and  labors,  both  as  a  soldier  in  the  battles 
of  his  country,  and  as  a  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ,  is  given 
by  Bishop  Andrew,  in  the  tenth  volume  of  the  Metho- 
dist Magazine  for  1827." 

His  son,  "Uncle  Dick"  Bryan,  a  Methodist  Class 
Leader,  I  lived  with  when  a  boy  attending  school  at 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  3 

Pleasant  Hill  in  Dallas  County.  Aunt  Miranda,  a  sis- 
ter of  my  mother,  was  the  wife  of  John  Oliver,  an  Ir- 
ishman, a  successful  farmer.  When  a  boy  I  lived  with 
them  a  few  months,  going  to  school  at  Farmersville, 
three  and  a  half  miles  away,  after  the  crops  were  "laid 
by."  The  distance  was  impressed  on  my  mind,  as  I 
usually  had  to  walk. 

My  mother's  name  would  indicate  she  was  descend- 
ed from  the  Irish,  so  that  I  come  from  English-Irish 
stock.    That  ought  to  be  pretty  good  blood. 

My  father's  people  were  slave-holders  and  educated, 
my  mother's  owned  a  few  slaves,  but  were  not 
given  much  to  books.  Uncle  Dick  and  his  family  were 
great  workers.  Aunt  Nancy  had  her  loom  in  the  kitch- 
en, where  she  wove  the  clothes  for  the  family,  and  the 
rag  carpets  for  the  dwelling.  Uncle  Dick  owned  one 
horse  and  made  a  good  living  on  his  little  farm.  When 
he  married,  he  owned  a  few  slaves,  but  I  judge  he  was 
so  kind  and  indulgent,  he  found  it  didn't  pay — any- 
way, he  owned  none  when  I  knew  him. 

The  frugality  of  the  family  was  shown  in  this :  It 
was  a  mile  and  a  half  to  church,  every  body  walked. 
When  within  a  half  mile  of  the  church,  the  female 
part  of  the  family  would  file  out  into  the  woods,  pull 
off  their  every-day  shoes  and  put  on  their  Sundays. 
On  returning,  they  would  make  the  exchange,  and  go 
home.  I  doubt  if  they  ever  were  in  debt — just  such 
shifts  as  I  have  named,  kept  the  family  going,  with 
heads  up.  Uncle  Dick  was  noted  for  his  jollity,  and 
also  eminent  for  his  piety  and  for  his  devotion  to  his 
church. 

The  Names  of  My  Father's  Children: 

Those  born  in  Walterboro,  Colleton  District,  South 
Carolina :  Mary,  Richard  Alexander,  Miranda  Ann, 
Henry  Thomas,  Hezekiah  John  and  William  Zacharia. 


4  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Born  in  Alabama :  James  Henderson,  Martha  Ma- 
tilda, Jane  Eliza  and  Washington  Bryan — this  "un- 
worthy dust,"  who  is  trying  to  get  together  some 
facts  about  his  people. 

My  father  was  a  cripple  from  childhood,  but  that 
did  not  keep  him  from  work.  Fie  often  said  to  me,  "I 
love  to  work" — the  truth  of  that  statement  I  doubted. 
I  thought  it  was  used  only  to  boost  me  with  the  idea 
that  there  was  something  good  in  work,  which  I  never 
had  discovered. 

In  his  early  days,  he  was  a  merchant,  running  two 
stores,  one  in  Charleston,  the  other  in  Walterboro. 

CHAPTER  2. 

Their  First  Settlement 

Their  first  home  was  in  Dallas  near  Pleasant 
Hill.  Later  Cahaba  became  the  home  of  the 
family,  where  father  did  well  in  business  for  a 
time.  At  the  steam-boat  landing,  a  bale  of  cot- 
ton crushed  the  life  out  of  brother  Henry.  The 
shock  to  my  mother  was  so  great,  it  was  deemed  best 
for  her  that  a  change  be  made ;  so  a  home  was  found, 
for  a  little  while,  near  Farmersville,  in  Lowndes  Coun- 
ty. Later,  land  was  purchased  in  Wilcox,  near  the 
junction  of  Grinding  Stone  and  Bear  Creeks.  The  fam- 
ily was  soon  doing  well  on  the  farm,  the  fast  growing 
boys  were  making  a  good  Hving;  but  I  suspect  it 
was  then  as  now,  a  family  once  in  town  for  a  time, 
is  never  satisfied  in  the  country ;  so  the  lands  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Maxwells,  and  the  Crumptons  moved 
to  Barbourville,  the  County  Seat,  soon  after  called 
Camden.  This  was  probably  in  the  Thirties.  I  do  not 
remember  whether  my  advent  into  the  world  caused 
much  of  a  sensation  or  not.  I  suppose  the  matter  of 
babies  was  becoming  rather  monotonous  in  the  fam- 
ily, as  I  was  the  tenth. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  5 

My  first  recollection  of  my  father,  he  was  running 
a  hotel,  with  a  ginger-cake  shop  on  the  corner. 

There  is  a  Nursery  that  advertises  a  peach  or  apple, 
the  name  of  which  is :  "None  Such."  My  mother's 
ginger  cakes  were  worthy  of  that  name.  I  have  eat- 
en ginger  bread  in  many  lands,  but  the  like  of  her 
cakes  I  never  found  elsewhere. 

My  school-days  at  Camden  were  a  disappointment 
to  my  parents.  My  first  teacher  was  a  cruel  tyrant. 
The  rod  was  an  instrument  of  torture  which  he  took 
delight  in  using. 

To  diagnose  the  boy,  I  hardly  know  how.  I  was  ex- 
tremely timid,  bordering  dangerously  on  to  cowardice. 
I  had  a  keen  sense  for  the  ridiculous,  which  made  me 
mischievous  and  overflowing  with  fun.  I  was  content- 
ed and  satisfied.  In  a  large  school,  with  no  one  to 
coach  me,  and  under  a  tyrannical  teacher,  I  became 
cowed. 

Fighting  among  the  boys  was  a  manly  sport.  It 
was  a  dull  day,  if  some  fights  were  not  pulled  oft'  at 
playtime.  I  was  no  fighter,  had  no  inclination  that 
way,  though  at  home,  I  was  more  than  once  told,  I  was 
too  soon  angry.  I  was  the  victim  of  pugnacious  boys 
at  school.     On  one  occasion, 

I  surprised  one  bully,  Syd  Sellers,  who  was 
always  picking  on  me  and  I  had  never  resent- 
ed it.  He  had  several  brothers  in  school,  and  I 
none ;  but  one  day  my  grown  brother  started  to 
school,  much  to  my  delight.  My  persecutor  jumped  on 
me  when  my  brother  was  near.  To  the  astonishment 
of  the  whole  school,  I  "wooled"  him  good. 

Because  I  had  whipped  the  day  before,  I  felt  that  I 
could  tackle  most  any  boy  on  the  ground.  One  of  the 
most  studious  and  gentlemanly  boys  on  the 
ground,  was  Rich  Jones.  He  was  my  senior, 
in  none  of  my  classes — in  fact,  he  knew  nothing  about 
me.     Some  demoniacal  notion  possessed  me  that  I'd 


6  A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES. 

whip  him.  He  had  done  nothing  to  me — much  of  the 
fighting  in  those  days  was  only  to  test  one's  man- 
hood, no  need  to  be  mad,  but  a  Hck  was  a  challenge, — 
so,  I  marched  up  on  the  ground  and  delivered  the  blow. 
Such  a  drubbing  as  I  got,  satisfied  me  for  the  balance 
of  my  life. 

Long  after.  Rich  Jones,  a  great  lawyer,  was  my 
friend  and  brother,  a  deacon  of  my  church  at  Camden, 
later  President  of  the  University  of  Alabama. 

CHAPTER  3. 

The  cruelty  of  slavery  is  well  illustrated  by 
my  childish  thoughts.  Around  the  Court  House 
was  a  fence  and  steps  were  used  instead  of 
gates.  At  the  top  of  the  steps  was  a  plat- 
form, and  on  this  platform  the  auctioneer  would  stand 
when  property  was  sold  to  the  highest  bidder.  Negroes 
were  sold  in  the  same  v/ay ;  sometimes  singly,  some- 
times by  families.  I  saw  children  separated  from  pa- 
rents, and  wives  from  husbands.  Their  grief  on  such 
occasions  touched  my  childish  heart.  I  often  won- 
dered if  things  like  that  w^as  not  the  occasion  of  the 
writing  of  the  song,  beginning: 

*'0h,  my  darling  Nellie  Gray, 

Up  in  Heaven,  so  they  say 

They  will  never  take  you  from  me  any  more." 
Negroes  have  their  griefs,  just  as  genuine  as  any; 
this,  many  fail  to  consider. 

My  father  owned  no  slaves  during  my  time,  but  we 
usually  hired  a  negro  man  to  help  about  the  place  and 
a  girl  to  aid  my  mother  about  the  kitchen. 

A  runaway  negro  named  Haywood  belonging 
to  Colonel  Bridges,  ran  away.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  he  was  caught.  It  was  the  talk 
of  everybody.  Packs  of  hounds  scoured  the 
woods,    but    it    was    not    easy  to  locate  him.       When 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  7 

he  was  run  down,  he  mowed  down  the  dogs  with  a 
scythe  blade,  which  he  had  stolen,  and  turned  into  a 
weapon  of  defense.  To  kill  *'a  nigger  dog"  was  almost 
unpardonable.  I  heard  them  talking  of  his  punishment 
for  the  offense,  should  he  be  captured.  My  childish 
sympathy  was  always  with  the  "runaway." 

Of  course,  some  masters  treated  their  slaves  hu- 
manely, but  there  were  very  many  who  were  cruel 
to  them,  and  often  good  masters  entrusted  them  to 
cruel  overseers  who  had  no  mercy  on  them. 

Uncle  Jimmie  Andrews  at  Allenton,  when  old  and 
blind,  told  me  a  story  after  the  Civil  War, 
which  illustrates  the  affection  of  the  slaves  for 
many  masters.  "Brother  Wash,"  he  said,  "you  re- 
member where  my  quarter  was  on  my  plantation,  near 
where  the  station  is  now — well,  when  news  came  that 
the  niggers  were  free,  I  rode  down  and  called  them 
all  together.  I  said,  "You  all  are  free,  as  free  now  as  I 
am,  to  go  where  you  please  and  to  do  as  you  please. 
I  have  no  more  control  over  you."  You  just  ought 
to  have  heard  the  cry  that  went  up  from  them.  They 
said,  'Marster,  youse  alus  bin  good  to  us.  We  don't 
know  whar  to  go,  we  don't  want  to  go  no  whar.  We 
wants  to  stay  right  here  wid  you  and  work  like  we  alus 
done."  Brother  Wash,  I  was  crying  too.  So,  I  told 
them  to  come  up  here,  and  I'd  see  what  I  could  do. 
Next  day,  right  out  there  they  stood,  men,  women  and 
children.  When  I  told  them  to  go  back  home  and  I 
would  arrange  to  keep  them,  they  cried  again  and  so 
did  I,  but  they  were  crying  for  joy — yes,  shouting 
happy.    Now  here  is  the  sad  part  of  it. 

Them  niggers  actually  ate  up  my  plantation.  I  flat- 
tered myself,  that  my  niggers  were  so  happy  to 
stay  with  me,  when  so  many  of  my  neighbors  lost 
every  one.  I  went  to  renting  and  advancing  for  them, 
and  lost  every  foot  of  ground  I  had,  and  now  in  my 
old  age  and  blind,  I  have  only  this  house  and  lot." 


8  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Kind  and  indulgent,  when  they  were  slaves,  his  in- 
dulgence was  his  financial  ruin  when  they  were  free. 
Thousands  of  others  could  tell  the  same  story. 

There  was  an  old  "free  nigger"  living  near  Camden. 
I  do  not  know  the  circumstances  that  led  to  his  being 
made  free.  He  had  a  little  farm  of  his  own.  He  was 
a  very  devout  man,  I  suppose,  from  the  incident  I  am 
about  to  relate.  In  the  midst  of  a  great  drouth,  I  hap- 
pened to  be  in  Daniel  Bloch's  store,  when  he  came  in 
to  make  some  purchases.  Probably  he  was  from  the 
low  country  in  South  Carolina,  and  retained  the 
brogue  of  the  native  Africans,  and  I  was  attracted  by 
that,  besides  he  was  the  "onliest  free  nigger"  and  I  was 
curious  to  see  and  hear  him.  A  company  of  men, 
about  town,  were  in  the  store  and  challenged  the  old 
man  to  pray  for  rain.  He  promptly  accepted  and 
kneeling  down  poured  out  an  earnest  appeal  to  God, 
such  as  I  have  never  heard.  I  watched  his  face,  and 
it  was  photographed  in  my  mind  never  to  be  forgot- 
ten. I  remember  well  the  faces  of  the  men  too.  At 
first  they  were  laughing,  but  the  smiles  faded  and 
they  became  serious  and  awe-struck  as  the  old  man 
pleaded  with  God  to  send  relief  to  the  suffering  coun- 
try. My  recollection  is  they  made  up  a  purse  and 
presented  it  to  him,  then  went  out.  I  remained  to 
watch  the  old  man  while  he  made  his  purchases.  I  do 
not  know  how  long,  but  I  was  startled  by  some  one 
crying,  "Look  at  the  rain."  With  that,  I  jumped  out 
of  the  store  and  ran  home  getting  wringing  wet. 

I  know  that  the  word  of  God  gives  abundant  reason 
for  the  faith  that  was  put  into  my  boyish  heart  when 
I  was  less  than  ten.  Rain  is  included  in  the  "Whatso- 
evers"  that  God  would  have  us  ask  for  in  making 
known  our  desires. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  9 

CHAPTER  4. 

I  do  not  know  how  early  a  child  may  receive  re- 
ligious impressions  tliat  means  its  salvation.  This 
incident,  when  I  w^as  only  three  or  four  years  of  age. 
I  was  sleeping  beside  my  mother,  and  was  awakened 
by  a  fierce  thunder  storm.  The  earth  trembled 
and  the  lightning  was  a  continued  sheet  of  flame. 
I  was  awfully  frightened  and  screamed  with 
alarm.  My  mother  soothed  me  by  telling  me,  God  was 
good,  that  he  controlled  the  storms,  that  he  cares  for 
those  that  trust  him.  I  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of  the 
storm,  and  the  distinct  impression  of  God's  over-ruling 
mercy  was  left  with  me,  never  to  be  forgotten  for  a 
moment,  to  this  day.  I  do  not  claim  that  I  was  made 
a  Christian  then,  my  extreme  early  age  and  my  sub- 
sequent life,  are  both  against  it,  but  a  lasting  impres- 
sion was  made  which  made  it  easier  to  become  a 
Christian  and  lead  a  consistent  life.  Some  other  inci- 
dents are  told  in  a  letter  to  the  Camden  paper  on  the 
occasion  of  tearing  down  the  old,  to  give  place  to  the 
new  Methodist  church. 

"The  picture  in  your  paper  of  the  Methodist  Church 
awakens  memories  of  my  childhood.  The  Henry 
Crumpton,  named  as  one  of  the  trustees,  was  my  fa- 
ther.    I  was  two  years  old  when  the  house  was  built. 

The  first  Sunday  School  I  attended  was  there;  I 
remember  well  the  first  question  and  how  proud  I 
was  to  answer.  "Who  made  you?"  was  the  question: 
the  answer :  "God."  I  guess  I  had  been  coached  thor- 
oughly before  I  went.  If  I  was  christened,  it  was  in 
that  house.  However,  I  am  led  to  doubt  it,  because  my 
father  had  imbibed  Baptist  notions.  He  married  in 
South  Carolina,  the  daughter  of  a  Methodist  preacher. 
She  died  a  Methodist,  at  Pine  Apple,  Parson  Ramsey  of 
Oak  Hill  preaching  her  funeral. 


10  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

The  first  Baptist  preacher  I  ever  heard  was  Kee- 
der  Hawthorne,  who  lived  near  Camden,  the  father 
of  that  great  Baptist  preacher,  J.  Boardman  Haw- 
throne.  He  had  an  afternoon  appointment  in  the 
old  town  hall.  I  went  with  my  father.  We  sat  on  a 
front  seat.  Brother  Hawthorne,  when  he  approached 
the  close  of  the  sermon,  put  on  the  'rousements,'  clos- 
ing each  sentence  with,  **and  ar-ah."  He  had  a  way,  in 
his  excitement,  of  spitting  on  the  floor  and  wiping  it 
up  with  his  foot.  Many  times  his  foot  went  through 
the  motion,  not  hitting  the  spittle.  I  was  first  alarmed 
at  his  antics,  afterwards  uncontrollably  amused. 

I  remember  well  the  outbreak  of  the  Mexican  War 
when  two  of  my  brothers,  Richard  and  William,  went 
with  Colonel,  or  Captain  Irby.  To  my  mind,  he  was 
the  handsomest  man  alive.  I  can  see  him  now  with 
feathers  in  his  hat,  as  he  rode  a  fine  charger,  and  the 
crowds  standing  in  the  street  before  the  Court  House. 

When  I  was  nine  years  old  we  moved  to  Washington 
on  the  Alabama  river,  ten  miles  below  Montgomery. 
Dan'l  Pratt  had  a  cotton  factory  at  Prattville,  and  my 
father  undertook  to  peddle  "spun  truck",  as  the  fac- 
tory thread  was  called,  and  at  the  same  time,  he  work- 
ed a  little  farm  near  the  village. 

Here  my  mother  and  I  had  typhoid  fever,  and  came 
near  dying.  Under  the  old  practice,  no  water  was 
allowed  a  fever  patient.  My  father  often  told  me, 
how  for  three  weeks  of  delirium,  I  called  for  water. 
When  cold  above  the  knees  and  my  eyes  seemed  set  in 
death,  the  doctor  gave  me  up  to  die.  My  father  was 
a  sort  of  botanic  doctor,  who  believed  that  the  true 
motto  was  "Help  nature,  to  relieve  herself."  He  said, 
"Well  Doctor,  if  he  is  going  to  die,  I  am  going  to  give 
him  some  water."  "That  will  be  the  quickest  way  to 
get  him  out  of  his  misery,"  was  the  Doctor's  reply 
The  water  was  given,  and  at  once  improvement  set  in, 


A   BOOK    OF    MEMORIES.  11 

which  continued  to  complete  recovery  without  a  doc- 
tor or  any  more  medicine. 

My  first  lesson  about  the  horrors  of  the  liquor  traffic, 

I  got  here  in  old  Washington.  Two  barrels  of  liquor, 
just  from  the  landing,  were  rolled  from  a  wagon  to 
the  stoop  in  front  of  the  store.  The  most  prominent 
citizen  of  the  place,  Jessie  Cox,  whose  brother  Bill  was 
a  drunkard,  picked  up  an  ax  and  burst  in  the  heads  of 
the  barrels,  and  paid  the  merchant  for  the  liquor  on 
the  spot.  It  would  keep  his  brother  sober  for  several 
weeks,  as  it  would  take  a  long  time  to  get  more  from 
Mobile.  I  seemed  to  fully  enter  into  the  feelings  of 
that  man  for  his  brother.  I  have  never  gotten  away 
from  that  feeling,  but  time  has  added  intensity  to  it. 

Seventy  years  later,  I  am  ten  miles  away  from  old 
Washington,  a  resident  of  the  Capital  City,  and  am 
happy  to  say,  there  is  not  a  legalized  saloon  in  the  State 
or  Nation,  as  Prohibition  went  into  the  National  Con- 
stitution January  16,  1920. 

Two  incidents  linger  with  me  about  Washington ; 
one  a  trip  to  Montgomery  when  my  father  took  me  to 
the  Capitol,  and 

Introduced  Me  to  Governor  Collier. 

The  other  was  the  building  of  the  plank  road  from 
Prattville,  four  miles  away  to  Washington  landing. 
The  making  of  a  railroad  was  never  talked  about 
more  than  the  building  of  that  plank  road.  A  disap- 
pointment of  my  life  was  that  my  father  moved  away 
to  Pine  Apple  before  the  road  was  completed.  Of 
course,  in  a  few  years,  the  planks  were  worn  out  and 
the  road  went  to  the  bad.  Now,  a  splendid  gravel  road 
is  there,  where  once  was  the  deep  sand  and  afterwards 
the  expensive  plank  road. 

My  father  kept  the  first  store  in  Pine  Apple,  in  the 
shed  room  of  his  residence.  My  recollection  is, 
the  place  was  named  from  a  remark    by    a    Yankee 


12  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

passing  through,  who  said  the  pine  burs  looked  much 
Hke  pineapples.  Parker's  wheelwright  and  HoUoway's 
blacksmith  shops  were  the  business  houses  of  the  place. 
A  little  later  two  wealthy  men  built  handsome  resi- 
dences there,  Gus  Powell  and  J.  R.  Hawthorn,  the  lat- 
ter moving  from  Conecuh  County,  bringing  a 
hundred  slaves.  He  was  a  great  business  man,  a  de- 
voted member  of  the  Baptist  church,  and  a  leader  in 
the  community.  A  store  house  was  built,  which  my 
father  rented  and  moved  into  with  his  little  stock  of 
goods.  Doctor  Adams  built  an  office,  an  Academy  was 
soon  erected  and  a  boom  started.  A  fine  old  town  is 
there  now. 

My  father  believed  a  boy  could  be  stopped  any  time 
out  of  school  and  make  up  all  the  lost  time.  I  was 
stopped  to  go  to  mill,  or  do  anything  else — a  half  or 
whole  day,  as  the  need  required.  This,  with  my  un- 
fortunate start  at  Camden,  contributed  to  my  dislike 
of  books  and  final  loss  of  ambition  to  excel  in  my  stu- 
dies. 

I  told  him  in  after  years,  he  impressed  two 
things  upon  me  to  the  advantage  of  my  children ;  that 
much  whipping  was  not  needed  and  that  children  must 
be  kept  to  their  books,  once  they  entered  school.  His 
answer  was,  he  was  glad  his  mistake  had  so  impressed 
me. 

A  Colporter  wagon  came  to  Pine  Apple  from  some- 
where. My  mother  bought  me  a  Bible,  with  the  hymn 
pasted  in  the  back  of  it : 

"Holy  Bible,  Book  Divine, 
Precious  treasure  thou  are  mine ; 
Mine  to  tell  me  whence  I  came ; 
Mine  to  tell  me  what  I  am." 


A   BOOK    OF    MEMORIES.  13 

This  was  the  first  song  I  remember  to  have  sung. 
Finding  that  I  could  sing  alone,  I  often  sat  by  the  pine- 
knot  fire  and  sang  the  long  hymns  in  the  Methodist 
hymn  book.  Another  book  she  bought  me:  "Pippies 
Warning."  It  was  the  story  of  a  beautiful,  badly 
spoiled,  ill  tempered  dog.  I  became  intensely  inter- 
ested in  it,  but  discovering  the  family  amused  at  my 
interest  in  the  book,  I  suspected  its  purchase  was  in- 
tended as  a  rebuke  to  my  bad  temper,  so  I  threw 
it  aside  and  read  it  only  on  the  sly.  It  was  a  great 
book  for  me  at  that  time.  Probably  the  first  I  ever 
read. 

The  colporter  with  his  wagon  load  of  books  and 
two  horses,  w^as  impressed  on  my  mind.  Through  the 
years  of  my  work  as  Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board 
I  have  ardently  fostered  the  colportage  work  and 
cherished  the  hope  that  some  day  the  Baptists  would 
have  one  or  more  wagons  traveling  the  State.  That 
wish  has  been  more  than  realized  in  the  Auto-wagon 
with :  "Baptist  Colportage"  on  each  door  and  Bunyan 
Davie,  the  consecrated  layman,  as  Colporter.  Who 
can  tell  what  will  come  from  the  vision  of  a  boy,  or 
the  value  of  books  put  in  his  hands? 

CHAPTER  5. 

My  brother  William,  the  Tax  Assessor  of  the  county, 
a  young  man  with  bright  prospects  ahead  of  him,  died 
of  tuberculosis.  He  was  a  devout  Christian  and  com- 
mended to  the  family:  Matt.  5:6  and  7  for  their  com- 
fort. That,  and  the  9th  chapter  of  John  are  the  first 
passages  I  remember  reading.  Only  a  few  weeks 
after  my  brother's  death,  my  Mother  followed;  her 
death,  probably  hastened  by  waiting  on  her  son.  "A 
boy*s  best  friend  is  his  mother,"  so  runs  the  song.  I 
realized  it  all  after  she  was  gone.  My  father  soon 
broke  up  the  home  and  I  became  a  wanderer. 


14  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

A  strange  thing  to  me  is:  how  a  boy  thirteen  years 
of  age,  who  loved  his  mother  tenderly,  and  on  whom 
she  lavished  her  affection,  can  recall  so  little  of  that 
mother.  It  has  been  the  grief  of  my  life,  and  a  mys- 
tery I  cannot  solve. 

She  was  a  cheerful,  industrious  woman,  often  doing 
her  own  cooking  and  some  times  the  washing,  for  the 
family.     Her  favorite  song  seemed  to  be : 

"O  sing  to  me  of  Heaven, 
When  I  am  called  to  die ; 
Sing  songs  of  holy  ecstacy. 
To  waft  my  soul  on  high." 

Friendship  meeting  house  was  a  mile  away  from  the 
village,  a  bare,  old  barn  of  a  house,  unceiled  and  with- 
out a  window  light.  I  guess  my  father's  was  the  only 
Methodist  family  in  the  community.  In  his  early 
years,  he  became  dissatisfied  with  his  baptism  and  de- 
manded of  the  Methodist  pastor  to  immerse  him.  He 
was  put  off  with  one  excuse  or  another  until  he  grew 
indifferent  about  it.  After  my  mother's  death,  he,  with 
all  the  children  became  members  of  old  Friendship. 

A  first  cousin,  Bryan  Mclnnis,  a  bachelor,  living  in 
Pleasant  Hill,  took  a  fancy  to  me  and  proposed  to  ed- 
ucate me.  I  hardly  think  my  father  knew  he  was  a 
gambler,  owning  a  bar-room,  ten-pin  alley,  and  bil- 
liard saloon,  or  he  would  not  have  agreed  to  the  prop- 
osition. Possibly  he  did  know  it,  but  as  the  plan  was 
to  board  me  with  Uncle  Dick  Bryan,  a  mile  and  a  half 
in  the  country,  he  thought  I  would  be  safe.  On  Sat- 
urdays I  loafed  about  town,  of  course,  about  my  bene- 
factor's premises.  I  learned  to  roll  the  balls  and  to 
play  billiards. 

He  had  a  tailor  to  make  me  a  broadcloth  suit — the 
first  fine  suit  I  ever  owned.  ''Honest  Injun !"  I  hated 
that  suit.    It  didn't  make  me  proud  at  all ;  on  the  con- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  IS 

trary,  it  humbled  me.  I  hated  for  Sunday  to  come. 
Between  that  suit  and  its  poor  owner,  there  was  a 
great  gulf  fixed. 

At  Uncle  Dick's  we  ate  breakfast  by  czundle  light 

generally,  and  I  marched  off  to  school  before  sunrise. 
It  was  the  joke  of  the  town  how  "Wash  waked  every- 
body in  town  in  the  early  morning,  singing  on  his  way 
to  school." 

Later  my  father  bought  a  home  at  Pine  Apple,  and 
wanted  me  to  look  after  a  little  store  in  the  front 
yard.  He  was  always  tinkering  with  trading  of  one 
sort  or  another.  After  his  early  experiences  in  South 
Carolina,  he  never  got  over  the  idea  of  merchandising. 
The  stock  of  goods,  I  had  to  mind,  consisted  mostly 
of  "spun  truck,"  and  a  few  things,  probably  a  two 
horse  wagon  could  have  moved  them  all  at  one  load. 
If  customers  didn't  come  in  pretty  fast,  after  my  fa- 
ther went  away  on  one  of  his  trips,  I  would  turn  the 
key  over  to  a  good  woman,  with  whom  I  boarded  and 
go  away  to  plow  for  some  of  the  farmers.  I  had  a 
passion  for  plowing  and  farm  life,  and  I  have  never 
lost  it  to  this  day.  My  father  never  chided  me  for 
deserting  the  store,  when  he  learned  I  had  been  away 
at  work.  He  seemed  proud  that  I  had  developed  a  love 
for  work — a  thing  he  never  expected  in  earlier  days. 

One  of  the  hardest  workers  in  the  country  hired  me 
for  four  months,  beginning  with  January,  paying  me 
$10.00  a  month.  Jim  Beard  was  the  name,  he  had  a 
nice  family,  and  owned  a  few  slaves.  We  ate  break- 
fast by  candle  light,  and  long  after  dark,  supper  was 
served.  A  pot  of  peas  was  cooked  for  dinner,  and  we 
had  them  cold  for  supper,  and  if  any  were  left  over, 
we  had  them  fixed  for  breakfast.  As  Spring  opened, 
turnip  salad  took  the  place  of  peas — fortunately,  I 
loved  peas  and  "greens."  I  never  went  visiting  Satur- 
day nights,  for  I  knew  we  would  have  biscuits  Sunday 
morning,   and  the  neighbors   might  not    have    them. 


16  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

This  is  no  reflection  on  that  family,  for  this  custom 
was  universal  among  the  average  families.  My  peo- 
ple, moving  from  tow^n,  where  we  kept  a  hotel,  had 
biscuits  every  morning,  so  it  was  hard  for  the  boy  to 
change. 

I  never  tired  plowing,  but  hoeing  would  get  my 
wind  in  a  little  while.  When  it  was  too  wet  to  plow, 
old  Jim  had  a  way  of  putting  everybody  to  the  hoe 
and  he  would  lead.  Very  soon  I  would  be  about  to 
collapse  with  fatigue.  The  old  man  was  a  Hardshell, 
and  had  rented  land  to  a  Hardshell  preacher,  named 
Smith.  In  the  settlement  they  had  fallen  out  and  there 
was  nothing  too  mean  for  Beard  to  say  about  Smith. 
He  needed  only  to  be  touched  ofif,  to  stop  work  a 
while  to  discourse  on  Smith,  so  when  I  was  about 
fagged  out  at  hoeing,  I'd  say,  "Mr.  Beard,  what  about 
Smith?  So  and  So." 

Thereupon,  to  the  ground  went  his  hoe — for  a  time, 
leaning  on  the  handle  he  raved  about  Smith.  Of 
course  I  was  all  attention  until  I  was  rested.  I  saved 
other  things  I'd  heard  about  Smith,  and  I  suspect,  some 
I  hadn't  heard,  until  I  again  got  in  a  tight  place. 

The  old  man  was  too  stingy  to  have  a  log-rolling. 
That  would  have  required  a  dinner  for  maybe  fifty 
hands,  a  jug  of  liquor  and  a  bigger  supper,  when  the 
women  and  girls  from  the  quilting  would  join  the 
boys  in  a  great  frolic  at  night.  In  that  way  I  missed 
the  log-rollings,  but  I  was  on  hand  at  night.  There 
was  no  dancing,  but  plays  galore.  Blindfold,  Thimble 
and  Go-Round  plays  are  all  I  remember  now. 

Probably  those  months  with  Beard  were  the  hard- 
est four  months  of  my  hfe — that  and  my  army  ex- 
perience, was  the  best  schooling  I  ever  got. 

My  sister,  Martha,  had  married  John  D.  Hardy,  a 
famous  cotton  planter  in  Lowndes  County,  and  I  went 
there,  not  to  oversee,  but  to  lead  twelve  or  fifteen 
plows.     Like  old  man  Jimimie,  he  rousted  me  out  at 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  17 

four  in  the  morning,  but  wholly  unlike  him,  we  had 
breakfast  sent  to  us  in  the  field,  sometimes  as  late  as 
nfne  o'clock.  I  would  almost  starve  before  it  came.  I 
registered  a  vow  that  if  I  ever  had  a  home,  everybody 
would  eat  before  they  began  the  day's  work,  a  rule 
strictly  adhered  to  in   my  farm  life. 

In  1849,  my  brother,  Hezekiah,  started  to  California. 
An  extended  account  he  gives  of  himself  in  the  "Ad- 
ventures of  Two  Alabama  Boys." 

He  was  a  son  and  brother  right.  After  brother 
William  died,  one  of  the  main  supports  of  the  family 
was  knocked  out.  Probably  he  and  Kiah  had  helped  in 
the  education  of  my  sister — Martha,  graduated  at  the 
Baptist  College  in  Tuskegee.  The  burden  now  fell  on 
the  far-away  brother  in  California.  Time  and  again 
he  came  to  the  rescue,  with  a  draft  when  dear  old  crip- 
pled father  was  in  a  tight  place. 

He  became  interested  in  me.  I  was  taken  from  the 
farm,  and  put  in  school  at  Pleasant  Hill.  Major  Hol- 
loway,  a  Northern  man,  was  the  teacher.  He  was 
a  teacher  right  too.  Probably  the  first  teacher  in  that 
town  in  whom,  the  boys  found  more  than  a  match.  He 
had  a  way  of  requiring  Saturday  work  to  make  up  de- 
ficiencies. Consternation  reigned  when  it  was  an- 
nounced, but  after  he  had  taken  a  good  sized  boy  or 
two  across  his  lap,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
school,  and  wore  out  a  half  dozen  keen  hickories  on 
them,  the  high  brows,  who  had  been  ruling  the  roost, 
took  notice  and  got  down  to  business.  I  doubt  if  any 
school  ever  taught  in  Alabama  did  better  work  than 
Holloway's.  Sons  of  rich  people  indulged  at  home,  set 
in  to  study  and  many  of  them  would  have  become 
great  men  but  for  the  Civil  War,  which  broke  up  the 
school.  The  teacher  raised  a  cavalry  company,  many 
of  his  own  students,  joining  it.  The  Company  became 
famous  as  the  Body  Guard  of  Bragg,  Joseph  E.  John- 
son and  Hood. 


18  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

How  fortune  changes  is  illustrated  in  the  fol- 
lowing incident :  Berry  Vasser  was  reputed  to 
be  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Dallas  County. 
His  boys  rode  horseback  to  Pleasant  Hill  school, 
the  girls  and  small  children  came  in  a  Rock- 
away,  driven  by  Reeson  Lanford,  the  overseer's  son. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  fine  boy,  good  natured  and  kind, 
but  dull  at  books.  He  fell  across  Major  Holloway's 
lap  many  a  day.  It  looked  Hke  he  could  never  learn" 
and  the  Major  had  no  mercy  on  him — fact  was,  the  boy 
was  scared  in  the  teacher's  presence. 

After  the  Civil  War,  Reeson  Lanford,  by  trading, 
became  one  of  the  richest  men  in  county,  married  the 
beautiful  and  only  child  of  Major  HoUoAvay,  and  fur- 
nished a  good  home  to  the  old  couple  as  long  as  they 
lived. 

Pleasant  Hill,  in  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  was  a 
center  of  refinement,  culture  and  wealth.  Its  name  cer- 
tainly expressed  the  feelings  of  every  one  who  visit- 
ed it  in  those  days : 

Goin'  to  meetin*,  as  they  said  in  the  backwoods  about 
Pine  Apple,  was  a  great  thing  in  the  Summer.  Once  a 
month,  on  "our  reg'lar  day,  Saturday  before  the  fourth 
Sunday,"  especially  on  Sunday,  great  crowds  turned 
out,  from  miles  around — an  army  of  men  and  women 
on  horseback  and  a  few  from  a  distance  in  buggies  and 
carriages.  Sometimes  besides  the  negro  driver,  there 
would  be  a  nurse  for  the  baby  and  a  maid.  "The  pro- 
tracted meeting  at  our  reg'lar  time,"  in  July  or  Au- 
gust, was  probably  the  greatest  event  of  the  year  in 
every  community. 

The  pastor  was  aided  by  such  neighboring 
preachers  as  happened  to  drop  in.  "When  will 
they  preach  you?"  was  sometimes  asked  of  a  vis- 
iting brother.  After  "trying  them  all  out,"  as  we  say 
now,  the  concensus  of  opinion  would  pick  the  winner, 
and  he  would  be  used  for  the  most  part,  till  the  end. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  19 

Leaving  out  the  women  riding  horseback,  this  descrip- 
tion fits  Pleasant  Hill  and  all  the  wealthy  communities. 
At  such  a  meeting  in  Old  Friendship  I  be- 
came a  member.  It  was  in  1855,  after  my 
mother's  death.  Early  conversions  were  not  expected 
in  those  days.  I  doubt  not,  many  of  the  women 
friends  of  my  mother,  when  they  saw  me  timidly  give 
my  hand  to  Bro.  McWilliams.  indicating  my  desire  for 
church  membership,  said :  "The  poor  boy  needs  his 
mother  now,  he  don't  know  what  he  is  doing,"  and 
they  were  not  far  wrong,  but  I  trust  the  Lord  was 
leading  me.  The  light  was  very  dim,  I  knew  but  lit- 
tle about  the  Bible.  Children  very  much  younger  now, 
know  more  about  the  Blessed  Book  than  did  L 

CHAPTER  6. 

I  have  come  to  believe,  the  disposition  of  the  indi- 
vidual has  much  to  do  with  one's  Christian  Experience. 
My  cousin,  B.  H.  Crumpton,  with  a  sanguine  disposi- 
tion, always  carried  away  with  sights  and  sounds,  re- 
veling in  the  beauties  of  a  glorious  sunset,  or  awed 
with  the  billowy  clouds  of  a  thunder  storm,  had  a  very 
bright  experience  of  grace.  He  could  tell  the  day  and 
hour  and  the  overwhelming  delight  of  that  hour.  But 
I,  a  matter-of-fact  sort  of  boy,  seldom,  if  ever  excited, 
could  not  say  just  when  or  where  I  was  saved.  At  nu- 
merous times  and  places,  I  was  made  to  rejoice  and 
can  sing  from  my  heart : 

"How  sweet  is  the  love  of  my  Savior ! 
'Tis  boundless  and  deep  as  the  sea; 
And  best  of  it  all,  it  is  daily 
Growing  sweeter  and  sweeter  to  me." 

Most  heartily  do  I  believe  in  Protracted  Meetings 
and  in  an  Experience  of  Grace,  but  I  have  long  ceased 
to  expect  an  extended  and  connected  story  from  those 


20  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

seeking  membership  in  the  churches.  "Do  you  accept 
Jesus  Christ  as  your  personal  Savior,  and  are  you  in 
love  with  His  people  and  desirous  to  follow  Him  in 
Baptism?"  seems  to  me,  the  only  confession  the  Scrip- 
ture requires.  The  process  by  which  they  were  led  to 
this  confession,  would  be  interesting,  but  is  not  at  all 
necessary.  Some  one  may  ask,  "Did  you  hold  out?" 
No.  Without  a  mother,  no  pastor  or  teacher  to  guide 
me;  without  a  home,  going  from  post  to  pillar,  subject 
to  all  sorts  of  temptations,  how  could  I  be  devout?  Af- 
ter my  first  Communion,  an  intelligent  boy,  older  than 
myself,  made  me  believe  I  had  almost  committed  the 
unpardonable  sin  by  "eating  and  drinking  unworthily." 
Sometimes  I  longed  to  ask  older  members  questions, 
but  they  didn't  encourage  me,  and  I  was  too  timid  to 
ask.  Companionship  with  a  young  man,  several  years 
my  senior — an  ignorant,  vulgar  wretch,  came  near 
wrecking  me.  In  my  heart  I  despised  him,  but  was 
so  situated  I  could  not  shake  him  off. 

My  first  vision  of  the  outside  world  came  from  read- 
ing the  Cincinnati  Enquirer.  I  do  not  know  how  it 
came  about  that  I  subscribed  for  it,  but  it  was  when 
I  was  looking  after  my  father's  little  store.  I  remem- 
ber I  was  impressed  with  the  awful  conditions  in  Ohio 
and  Kentucky,  where  so  many  dreadful  murders  were 
committed.  People  came  to  the  store  to  read  my  paper 
and  all  of  us  agreed  that  ours  was  the  best  State  in  the 
Union,  because  we  never  read  of  any  such  crimes  in 
Alabama.  Worse  things  might  be  taking  place  in 
adjoining  counties,  but  we  never  heard  of  them.  I  am 
now  called  a  "newspaper  fiend,"  and  I  plead  guilty  to 
the  charge.  I  suspect  that  the  early  reading  of  the  En- 
quirer is  responsible  for  the  newspaper  habit. 

This  brings  me  to  the  close  of  the  period:  My 
Boyhood  to  18.  My  path  was  chequered,  a  prelude  to 
a  very  long,  chequered  career. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  21 

The  world  has  been  good  to  me,  and  above  all,  I  am 
assured  the  Lord  led  me  from  the  beginning.  Only  I 
was  responsible  for  much  in  my  life,  of  which  I  am 
ashamed,  but  He  it  was,  who  like  a  tender  mother,  with 
her  wayward  boy,  wiped  away  the  tears,  in- 
planted  a  kiss  of  forgiveness  and  sent  him  on  his  way 
rejoicing. 

The  Talk  of  War. 

While  I  attended  school  at  Pleasant  Hill  under 
Major  Holloway,  the  talk  of  war  began  to  run  high. 
In  these  days  of  newspapers  every  boy  is  supposed  to 
know  something  of  what  is  going  on — not  so  with  me. 
I  don't  remember  to  have  had  a  newspaper  in  my 
hand,  after  I  left  my  father's  little  store.  I  doubt  not  the 
speakers  were  about,  talking  of  the  war  that  seemed 
imminent,  but  I  never  heard  any  of  them.  In  con- 
versation, I  heard  the  Abolitionists  talked  about  and 
denounced.  I  heard  of  the  John  Brown  raid  in  Vir- 
ginia. Finally  the  flame  had  been  so  fanned  that  prep- 
arations began  to  be  made  for  war.  Captain  S.  W. 
Catts,  a  merchant,  a  Virginian,  seemed  to  have  been 
the  only  military  man.  Maybe  he  had  been  to  West 
Point.  Whether  a  regular  company  was  organized 
or  not,  I  cannot  say,  but  a  movement  in  that  direc- 
tion was  made.  With  other  boys,  and  men,  I 
drilled  in  a  Cavalry  Company  several  times  before  I 
started  to  California — I  suppose  this  formed  the  nu- 
cleus of  the  Company,  afterwards  commanded  by  Ma- 
jor Holloway  of  which  I  have  spoken. 


Part  Two 
PERIOD  OF  TRAVEL 

TO  CALIFORNIA  AND  RETURN. 
CHAPTER  1. 

How  I  Began  to  Lecture. 

This  is  about  the  way  I  tell  it : 

The  story  I  am  to  tell  relates  my  own  personal  ad- 
ventures, which  I  often  told  around  the  fire-side,  with 
no  dream  of  its  ever  assuming  the  shape  of  a  lecture. 

My  old  friend.  Col.  J.  T.  Murfee,  President  of  How- 
ard College,  insisted  that  I  should  turn  it  into  a  lec- 
ture. My  reply  was :  "Some  day,  when  I  have  time, 
I  may  sit  down  and  write  it  out,  dressing  it  up,  weav- 
ing in  some  poetry,  and  then  branch  out  as  a  full 
fledged  lecturer."  I  suppose  the  leisure  time  never 
would  have  come  and  probably  the  lecture  never  been 
delivered  but  for  a  foolhardy  spell  that  possessed  me 
on  one  occasion  when  I  was  in  Mt.  Sterling,  Ky.  A 
brother  said :  "Our  Baptist  young  people  want  you 
to  deliver  a  lecture.  You  are  going  to  be  here  several 
days.  Could  you  not  do  so?"  And  I  promptly  said, 
"Yes."  The  next  question  was :  "What  is  the  name 
of  the  lecture?"  I  had  never  thought  of  that  be- 
fore, but  I  blurted  out :  "How  a  boy  got  through  the 
Lines  to  the  Confederacy."  "How  much  do  you 
charge?"  That  was  a  new  question  too,  but  I  ven- 
tured to  say:  "About  one-half."  So  it  was  arranged 
and  a  dodger  was  gotten  out  by  the  preacher  and 
I  began  lecturing. 

"The  Original  Tramp ;  or  How  a  Boy  Got  Through 
the  Lines  to  the  Confederacy,"  was  its  final  name. 
One  pious   old   sister,   suggested  that   the    name    be 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  23 

changed  to :  "How  the  Lord  Took  Care  of  a  Boy  While 
Going  Through  the  Lines,"  and  I  cheerfully  accept 
the  amended  form. 

It  is  not  a  religious  lecture.  The  boy  I  tell 
about  was  not  working  at  religion  much,  though  a 
member  of  the  church ;  but  I  hope  there  will  be  dis- 
covered the  marks  of  an  over-ruling  Providenve  run- 
ning like  a  silver  thread  through  all  the  story.  I  have 
believed,  for  many  years,  the  Lord  had  me  in  hand, 
though  I  knew  it  not,  preparing  me  for  the  task  that 
has  been  mine  for  many  years.  If  some  reader  shall 
come  to  believe  in  the  Guiding  Hand  in  his  or  her  own 
life,  I  shall  be  happy. 

The  lecture  begins  with  my  return  from  California 
to  Beloit,  Wisconsin;  but  I  have  concluded  to  give  the 
whole  narrative,  beginning  with  my  first  start  to  Cali- 
fornia. 

A  blind  man  sang : 

"A  Boy's  Best  Friend  Is  His  Mother.  How 
true  is  that  and  the  poor  boy  doesn't  realize 
it  until  the  mother  is  taken  from  him.  After  she  is 
gone  out  of  the  home,  the  world  is  never  again  what 
it  was  to  him. 

When  my  brother,  an  "old  forty-niner,"  as  the 
first  gold-hunters  in  California  were  called,  vis- 
ited relatives  at  Pleasant  Hill  in  Dallas  coun- 
ty, Ala.,  he  found  me  in  school.  He  thought 
that  travel  would  be  the  best  schooling  for  me.  So 
he  asked  me  one  day  how  I  would  like  to  go  to  Cali- 
fornia. My  answer  in  the  negative  amazed  him.  I 
was  honest  about  it ;  I  had  been  to  Montgomery,  Sel- 
ma,  Cahaba  and  Prattville,  and  had  frequently  seen 
steamboats  on  the  Alabama — had  actually  ridden  on 
one — I  had  but  one  desire  as  to  travel  ungratified.  I 
wanted  some  day  to  go  to  Mobile  and  then  to  East  Mis- 
sissippi to  see  my  kin.    I  had  determined  to  make  that 


24  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

trip  if  I  lived  to  be  grown;  beyond  that  I  had  no  am- 
bition to  see  the  world. 

This  satisfied  condition  indicated  to  my  brother  that 
I  was  without  ambition. 

This  distressed  him  no  httle.  Through  another 
party  he  approached  me  next  time.  I  was  asked  if  I 
would  be  willing  to  go  to  California  to  look  after  some 
business  for  my  brother ;  then  to  return  if  I  desired. 
To  this  proposition,  I  readily  consented.  It  seems  lu- 
dicrous now,  to  think  of  sending  an  ignorant  boy  on 
such  a  journey,  to  "look  after  business ;"  but  I  fell  into 
the  scheme  and  felt  my  importance  as  never  before. 

My  brother  was  wise  and  knew  the  ways  of  the 
world  and  was  kind  enough  to  accompany  me  as  far  as 
he  could.  First  he  took  me  down  the  Alabama  to  Mo- 
bile, then  sent  me  alone  up  the  M.  &  O.  (the  first  rail- 
road I  ever  saw)  to  Enterprise,  Miss.,  to  visit  my 
relatives  beyond  there  in  Jasper  county.  I  hired  a 
horse  and  buggy  from  a  Mr.  Edmonson  and  drove 
out  twenty-four  miles  to  my  brother-in-law's  home. 
Returning  to  Mobile,  he  accompanied  me  to  Mont- 
gomery by  boat,  thence  by  rail  to  Savannah,  Charles- 
ton, Wilmington,  Richmond,  Baltimore,  Washington, 
Philadelphia  and  finally  to  New  York,  two  days  before 
the  time  for  the  steamer  to  sail.  We  lay  over  a  day 
at  most  of  the  cities  mentioned  to  give  me  a  chance  to 
learn  some  of  the  ways  of  the  world. 

I  was  a  sucker,  ready  to  bite  at  any  bait.  I  doubt 
if  ever  a  boy  started  on  so  long  a  trip  so  green.  One 
incident  will  show  my  ignorance : 

While  in  New  York,  one  afternoon,  I  saw  a  great 
commotion  on  the  streets.  Going  out  I  saw  my  first 
fire  engine.  The  engine  was  of  the  old  kind,  with  long 
ropes  attached,  pulled  by  men.  There  the  poor  fel- 
lows were  toiling  at  the  ropes  and  frantically  appeal- 
ing to  the  crowds  of  people  who  lined  the  sidewalks 
to  come  to  their  aid.    I  had  read  of  great  fires  destroy- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  25 

ing  U-rge  cities  and  turning  multitudes  out,  and  I  made 
sure  that  just  such  a  thing  was  about  to  happen  to 
New  York.  I  was  paralyzed  at  the  utter  indifference 
of  the  people  who  gazed  unmoved  at  the  heroic  fire- 
men and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  appeals.  I  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  so  I  leaped  out  into  the  street  and 
seized  the  rope.  I  was  a  tall,  slim,  awkward  lad,  about 
eighteen  years  old,  thin  as  a  match,  pale  as  a  ghost 
and  had  on  a  long  coat.  The  crowd  cheered,  but  I 
didn't  know  what  it  was  about.  The  firemen  encour- 
aged me,  of  course.  "Go  it,  my  laddie,  brave  boy; 
now  we'll  save  the  town,"  were  some  of  the  cheering 
remarks  the  firemen  spoke  as  I  tugged  away  with 
all  my  might  on  the  rope.  "Stand  up,  my  son,"  was 
another,  as  I  slipped  on  the  cobble  stones.  The  fire 
reached,  I  was  put  in  position  with  the  others  to  pump 
the  machine.  I  knew  nothing  of  what  was  going  on, 
for  I  was  intent  on  trying  to  save  the  town.  After 
awhile,  by  the  awkwardness  of  some  fellow  who  held 
the  nozzle  (of  course,  it  was  all  accidental)  the  stream 
struck  me  full  in  the  breast  and  I  was  nearly  drown- 
ed. A  great  shout  went  up  from  the  crowd,  and  I 
realized  that  several  thousand  spectators,  who  had 
been  drawn  to  the  fire,  had  their  eyes  centered  on  me. 
I  guessed  afterward  that  the  fire,  which  I  never  saw, 
had  been  subdued,  and  they  were  having  a  little  sport 
at  my  expense. 

I  turned  loose  the  pump  as  though  I  had  been  shot, 
drew  my  overcoat  tight  about  me,  for  it  was  very  cold, 
and  darted  through  the  crowd,  going  I  knew  not  whi- 
ther. 

Fortunately  my  brother's  counsel  came  to  my  aid: 
"If  you  ever  get  lost  in  a  city,  don't  try  to  find 
your  way  back,  but  hail  the  first  hack  you  see,  and  tell 
the  driver  to  take  you  to  your  hotel."  This  I  did,  and 
as  the  carriage  rumbled  over  the  streets  across  several 
blocks,  I  was  wishing  and  praying  that  I  might  get 


26  A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES. 

to  my  room  without  being  seen  by  my  brother.  He 
was  not  in  the  lobby  of  the  hotel,  and  I  was  congrat- 
ulating myself,  as  I  wearily  toiled  up  the  stairs,  that  I 
had  missed  him,  and  he  would  never  know  my  misfor- 
tune ;  but  I  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  Opening 
the  door,  there  he  was  in  the  room !  As  I  stood  be- 
fore him,  bedraggled  with  mud  and  water,  his  eyes 
opened  wide  as  he  took  me  in.  "Where  have  you 
been?"  he  exclaimed.  I  gasped  out:  "To  the  fire!" 
He  was  not  a  prayer  meeting  man,  and  I  will  not  re- 
peat his  language,  as  he  rolled  on  the  bed,  yelling  like 
a  Comanche  Indian.  I  was  utterly  disgusted  with  him ; 
I  saw  nothing  to  laugh  about.  I  have  never  helped 
at  a  fire  since  then,  and  when  I  hear  the  alarm  and  see 
the  engine  in  its  mad  rush,  I  am  inclined  to  want  to  go 
in  the  other  direction. 

Off  to  sea!  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  read  about, 
but  it  has  a  serious  side.  I  didn't  mind  sepa- 
rating with  my  brother  so  much.  He  had  in- 
troduced me  to  the  captain  and  purser  of  the 
steamer,  besides  these,  I  knew  not  a  soul. 
I  was  much  interested,  for  the  hour  or  two  before 
nightfall,  watching  the  shipping.  Everything  was  new 
to  me,  but  darkness  came  down  upon  us  before  we 
were  out  of  the  harbor,  I  shall  never  forget  the  sen- 
sation when  the  vessel  struck  the  first  billow  of  the 
rolling  ocean.  As  the  old  vessel  lurched  forward,  and 
her  timbers  began  to  creak,  some  one  said:  "That's 
pretty  strong  for  a  starter."  Another  said :  "Shouldn't 
wonder  if  we  didn't  have  a  rough  voyage."  And  yet 
another :  "It  is  always  dangerous  at  sea  in  March." 
For  the  first  time  I  began  to  get  alarmed.  I  watched 
the  swinging  lamps,  the  supper  tables  that  looked  as 
if  they  were  going  over  and  spill  all  the  dishes ;  the 
sick  passengers  as  they  flew  either  to  their  staterooms 
or  to  the  upper  deck.     Only  a  little  while  elapsed  be- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  27 

fore  I  was  in  bed  myself,  wishing  for  my  brother  and 
abusing  myself  for  ever  undertaking  the  trip. 

Oh !  the  desolation  and  loneliness  of  that  horrid 
night  as  I  rolled  with  every  motion  of  the  vessel!  I 
never  slept  a  wink.  Next  morning  I  looked  out  of 
the  port-hole  and  saw  the  mad  waves  of  the  ocean. 
To  my  surprise  the  sun  was  shining;  but  it  looked 
to  me  like  a  storm  was  raging.  I  learned  afterwards 
that  the  Atlantic  is  always  rough  and  that  I  was  the 
only  one  on  board  who  w^as  much  alarmed.  Three  days 
and  nights  I  kept  my  bed  from  sheer  fright  and  home- 
sickness, I  know  it  was  not  sea-sickness,  for  I  tested 
myself,  time  and  time  again,  afterwards  and  never  had 
the  first  symptom. 

I  had  about  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  never 
see  the  home  folks  again,  but  w^ould  die  in  a  few  days 
and  be  buried  in  the  ocean.  The  third  day  the  old 
Captain  came  in  on  his  rounds  of  inspection.  When  he 
found  that  I  was  not  sick,  he  shouted:  "Pshaw,  boy, 
get  out  of  this  and  be  a  man ;  get  on  deck  and  get  a 
sniff  of  the  salt  air  and  you  will  be  all  right  in  two 
minutes  and  as  hungry  as  a  wolf !  Out,  out  with  you ; 
be  a  man."     In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it 

I  was  completely  transformed.  All  my  fears 
were  gone  and  I  found  the  Captain's  words 
were  true.  As  I  looked  at  the  hundreds  of  peo- 
ple on  the  open  deck,  there  were  eight  hundred  pas- 
sengers, all  happy  and  cheerful.  I  felt  disgraced  to 
have  been  such  a  coward.  There  was  the  boundless 
ocean  on  every  side.  No  sign  of  land  anywhere  and, 
strange  to  say,  I  w^as  not  a  bit  afraid.  The  reassur- 
ing words  of  the  Captain  had  saved  me.  Many  a  poor 
fellow  has  given  up  and  gone  down  in  the  battle  of  life, 
who  might  have  been  saved  if  some  one  had  only 
spoken  the  cheering  words  in  time. 

Down  through  the  tropical  islands  to  Aspinwall, 
now  called  Colon,  across  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  where 


28  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

the  Panama  Canal  now  is,  on  the  railroad  to  the  an- 
cient city  of  Panama  and  up  the  beautiful  Pacific  into 
the  lovely  harbor  of  Acapulco,  Mexico,  where  we  stop- 
ped a  day  for  coal,  and  finally  through  the  Golden 
Gate ;  we  dropped  anchor  in  the  Bay  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, just  twenty-four  days  from  New  York,  Not  a 
soul  in  all  the  great  city  did  I  know ;  but  I  was  soon 
in  the  hands  of  the  friends  of  my  brother.  I  felt  like 
Mrs.  Partington  when  she  struck  land  after  being  to 
sea,  she  exclaimed :  "Thank  the  Lord  for  terra  cotta," 
and  I  promised  myself  never  again  to  get  on  an  ocean 
steamer. 

In  the  diggings,  among  the  miners,  I  spent  three 
months,  "keeping  bach,"  with  a  genteel  old  Scotch- 
man, in  my  brother's  cabin  on  the  mountain  side. 
From  the  little  stoop  in  front  of  my  cabin,  I  could  see 
the  villages  of  Digger  Indians,  Chinese  and  Greasers, 
and  people  from  every  nation  of  the  earth. 

Later  I  was  introduced  to  a  Bostonian,  who  was 
sheriff  of  Placer  county. 

He  had  been  told,  I  was  looking  for  a  job.  He 
turned  his  cold,  grey  eyes  on  me  and  said:  "I 
know  old  Crump — he  was  never  afraid  of  work ;  but 
Southern  boys  generally  feel  themselves  above  it.  I 
wonder  if  you  are  that  way.  I  want  somebody  to  be 
about  the  Court  House  and  Jail  all  the  time  to  keep 
things  cleaned  up  and  to  feed  and  curry  my  four  horses. 
Can  you  curry  horses?  Are  you  ashamed  of  it?  Sup- 
pose sometime  when  you  were  with  your  overalls  on, 
currying  horses,  a  pretty  girl  should  come  along  the 
street,  guess  you'd  run  up  in  the  loft  and  hide,  eh  ?  Now, 
for  that  sort  of  work  for  a  boy  about  3^our  age,  I  have 
fifty  dollars  a  month  and  grub.  What  do  you  say?" 
My !  how  he  did  fire  the  questions  at  me  and  how  his 
grey  eyes  did  snap  and  pierce  me  through !  Fifty 
dollars  a  month  was  a  big  thing  in  my  eyes.     I  was 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  29 

a  little  on  my  mettle  to  show  the  Boston  Yankee  what 
a  Southern  boy  could  do  if  he  tried. 

So  I  became  a  hostler  for  nine  months.  I 
was  used  to  all  kinds  of  work  on  the  farm,  but 
never  had  any  occasion  to  become  an  expert 
with  the  curry  comb.  I  was  privileged  to  belt 
a  pistol  around  me  and  guard  a  prisoner  while  he  did 
the  work,  if  I  liked ;  but  generally  I  preferred  doing 
the  work  myself. 

For  the  benefit  of  my  own  boys  and  others  who  may 
chance  to  read  these  lines,  I  want  to  record  it:  the 
three  months  roughing  it  in  the  miner's  cabin,  and  the 
nine  months  currying  Sheriff  Bullock's  horses,  made 
a  year  of  most  valuable  training  for  me.  I  learned 
more  that  twelve  months  than  in  any  of  my  life,  except 
the  years  later  in  the  Civil  War. 

I  was  always  fond  of  the  girls.  I  was  never  in  any 
place  long  before  I  was  well  acquainted  with  a  num- 
ber of  the  nicest  in  the  town.  Instead  of  running  up 
in  the  loft  to  hide  when  they  came  along,  many  a  pleas- 
ant chat  did  I  have,  standing  before  my  stable  door 
with  my  overalls  on  and  my  sleeves  rolled  up  to  my 
elbows. 

My  brother  returned  from  the  States  to  San  Francis- 
co and  put  me  in  school.  Some  of  my  leisure  time  he  ex- 
pected me  to  look  after  his  business.  My  ignorance  of 
business  methods  is  well  illustrated  by  the  following 
incident:  He  went  away,  leaving  a  note  of  something 
over  three  thousand  dollars.  It  was  in  the  hands  of  a 
lawyer  friend  and  not  due.  He  told  me  he  would  send 
me  a  draft  to  pay  that  note. 

I  didn't  know  what  a  draft  was  ;  but  it  finally  came 
in  the  mail  by  the  steamer,  which  came  once  a  month. 

I  couid  hardly  sleep  that  night  for  fear  somebody 
would  steal  it.  I  felt  sure  something  was  going 
to  happen  to  me  before  I  got  the  note  paid.  I  had 
read  of  hold-ups  at  night,  and  even  in  day  time,  parties 


30  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

had  been  enticed  into  dark  alleys  and  robbed.  Next 
morning  it  looked  as  if  the  bank  would  never  open  its 
doors.  I  passed  and  repassed,  afraid  to  stop  and  look 
in,  for  fear  some  one  would  suspect  I  had  some  money 
and  would  lay  a  trap  for  me.  Finally  the  door  opened 
and  I  was  the  first  to  enter.  I  presented  the  draft.  It 
was  the  proudest  act  of  my  life.  The  fellow  looked 
at  it,  and  then  at  me,  turned  it  over,  looked  on  a  book, 
cut  his  eye  at  me  again,  then  looked  at  his  watch,  ask- 
ed me  some  more  questions,  then  went  in  a  back  room 
and  was  gone,  oh !  so  long.  "Surely,"  I  began  to  think, 
"maybe  he  Avill  slip  out  of  the  back  door  and  I  will 
never  see  my  draft  anymore."  But  finally  he  returned 
with  another  man.  I  can't  recall  it  all  now,  but  after 
a  while  it  was  arranged  and  the  man  asked :  "What 
do  you  want  for  this?"  "Want  gold,"  was  my  reply. 
I  had  heard  of  bank  notes  that  were  not  good — there 
were  no  green  backs  then.  I  was  determined  to  be 
on  the  safe  side.  Nothing  but  gold  would  satisfy  me. 
"Mighty  heavy  for  you  to  pack,"  he  said,  but  I  knew 
of  no  other  way.  Two  sacks  were  given  me.  My  !  how 
my  eyes  opened  as  the  money  was  counted  into  the 
sacks  in  $20  gold  pieces.  I  had  never  seen  so  much 
money  before. 

Taking  a  Sack  in  Each  Hand,  I  Trudged  Away  Up 
the  Street. 
Block  after  block  was  passed  and  finally,  I  w^ent 
up  tiie  stairway  and  stood  almost  breathless  in  the 
lawyer's  office.  Depositing  my  treasure  on  a  chair, 
I  said:  "Mr.  Anderson,  that  note  is  due  today  and 
I  have  come  to  pay  it."  "All  right,  my  boy,  you  could 
have  waited  three  days  longer  if  you  wished,"  was  the 
lawyer's  kind  reply.  I  had  been  impressed  with  the 
exact  date  and  thought  it  so  fortunate  that  the  steam- 
er arrived  just  the  day  before  the  note  fell  due.  I 
thought  something  awful  would  happen  if  it  was  not 
promptly  settled,  when  due.     I  knew  nothing  of  days 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  31 

of  grace  :  "But  what  have  you  in  those  sacks,"  queried 
the  lawyer  in  a  kindly  tone.  "That's  the  money,"  I  re- 
plied. Of  course  the  laugh  was  on  me.  There  I  got 
my  first  lesson  in  banking.  The  draft  endorsed  by  me 
would  have  suited  him  much  better  than  the  two  sacks 
of  gold  coin.  So  I  was  a  "gold  bug"  when  William 
Jennings  Bryan  was  a  kid,  and  I  have  never  changed 
my  platform. 

In  San  Francisco,  when  my  brother  put  me  in  charge 
of  his  property  to  rent,  he  said,  "You  will  collect  each 
month  about  $100.00.  Sometimes  you  will  have  to 
spend  something  on  repairs,  but  that  need  not  be 
much.  Then  monthly  interest  on  a  note  for  a  little 
while,  then  your  expenses,  if  you  save  anything  it  will 
be  yours."  A  boy  who  had  never  handled  any  money 
in  his  life,  to  have  that  much  each  month,  you  may 
imagine  what  happened.  It  was  the  finest  opportunity 
a  boy  ever  had  to  go  to  ruin.  I  spent  it  all,  as  one 
might  suppose,  but  never  a  cent  in  dissipation.  I  was 
grievously  imposed  upon.  I  boarded  with  a  New 
Bedford,  Massachusetts  Yankee — a  regular  Blue  Bel- 
ly was  he.  His  wife  was  a  fine  motherly  soul,  who  was 
as  tender  with  me  as  if  I  were  her  son.  A  pair  of  girls, 
twelve  and  fourteen,  well  behaved  as  one  ever  saw, 
the   old   lady  would  say :   "I   see   by   the   papers   that 

is  to  lecture.    I  do  wish  the  girls  could  go." 

Whereupon,  poor  fool  that  I  was,  I  would  say,  "All 
right,  let  them  be  ready  and  I'll  take  them,  maybe 
you'd  like  to  go  too" — then  the  old  man  would  join 
the  band.  A  big  ball,  though  I  didn't  dance,  nor  did 
the  girls,  the  old  lady  thought:  "It  would  be  so  im- 
proving to  the  girls  to  go  and  look  on" — all  this,  with 
theatres  and  parties  and  excursions,  for  which  I  cared 
but  little,  gobbled  up  my  spare  change,  and  maybe  it 
was  just  as  well.  I  learned  much  about  the  ways  of 
the  world  and  might  have  been  in  worse  places  and 
spent  my  money  more  foolishly. 


32  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

That  old  New  Bedford  Yankee  was  a  rank  Aboli- 
tionist and  often  provoked  me  with  his  remarks.  There 
was  a  bright  negro  boy  who  occasionally  dropped  in. 
He  knew  I  was  a  Southerner  and  was  very  respectful 
— would  shine  my  shoes  Sunday  mornings.  Coming 
once,  while  we  were  at  breakfast,  the  old  man  insisted 
upon  his  being  seated  to  take  breakfast  with  us,  but 
he  declined,  I  am  sure  on  my  account.  I  happened  in 
the  dining  room  at  night,  a  time  or  two,  when  the 
old  man  and  girls  were  playing  cards  with  the  darkey. 
Finally  I  interviewed  the  old  lady  telling  her,  wc  were 
so  far  apart  in  our  notions  of  things,  her  husband  was 
so  persistent  in  thrusting  in  his  abolition  theories 
at  the  table  and  favored  social  equality  with  the  ne- 
gro race,  I  would  change  my  quarters.  It  was  a  mat- 
ter of  great  distress  to  her,  for  my  board  and  libe- 
ralities went  far  to  the  support  of  the  family. 

I  chanced  one  Saturday  to  go  to  Oakland,  quite  a 
nice  town  then — now  a  great  city.  My  brother 
had  told  me  of  an  old  friend  of  his  over  there.  Judge 
McKee,  and  I  called  on  him.  I  found  him  to  be  an 
intense  Southerner.  His  wife  was  a  Miss  Davis,  from 
Mississippi,  a  kinswoman  of  Jeff  Davis,  afterwards 
President  of  the  Confederacy.  It  so  happened  that 
there  was  to  be  a  gathering  of  young  people  at  his 
house  that  night  and  they  were  all  Southern  people. 
Of  course  I  was  not  slow  to  accept  an  invitation  to 
remain  over.  Such  a  company  of  fire-eating  South- 
erners I  had  no  idea  could  be  gotten  together  in  Cali- 
fornia. All  the  talk  was  about  secession.  All 
the  songs  were  of  the  South.  I  heard  Dixie  for  the 
first  time.  It  required  only  a  hint  on  the  part  of  my 
new  friends  to  make  a  change  in  my  living.  I  went 
to  Oakland  College,  selected  a  room  and  two  days 
later  was  out  of  the  great  city  and  over  the  bay 
where  every  Sunday  I  could  visit  my  Southern  friends 
and  talk  "secesh."     The  more  we  talked,  of  course, 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  33 

the  madder  I  got  and  when  the  war  broke  out  a  few 
weeks  later,  the  spirit  of  rebelHon  was  hot  within  me. 
It  was  a  time  of  great  excitement  and  great  danger. 
On  a  Friday  night  I  went  over  to  the  city.  The 
next  morning  as  I  was  dressing,  I  thought  I 
heard  an  unusual  tone  in  the  voices  of  the  newsboys 
and  I  heard  excited  voices  on  the  street  and  in  the 
hotel.  When  I  reached  the  sidewalk,  I  heard  the  cry : 
"Here's  the  Morning  Call !  All  about  the  great  battle 
of  Bull  Run."  "Federal  troops  falling  back  on  Wash- 
ington, pursued  by  the  Rebel  army.  Rebel  army  march- 
ing on  the  Capital."  My  first  impulse  was  to  shout : 
"Hurrah  for  Jeff  Davis!" 
Had  I  done  so,  I  would  have  been  torn  to  pieces  by 
crowds  surging  through  the  streets.  All  business  was 
suspended,  the  streets  were  jammed.  I  bought  a  pa- 
per and  got  out  of  the  crowd  as  quickly  as  possible. 
I  hardly  stirred  out  of  the  office  of  my  friend  all  day, 
so  fearful  was  he  that  my  mouth  w^ould  get  me  into 
trouble.  The  next  day  I  attended  Dr.  Scott's  church 
(Presbyterian). 

CHAPTER  2. 

I     speak    of    two    California    preachers.    At     my 

brother's  suggestion,  I  wrote  to  old  Friend- 
ship in  Wilcox  and  got  my  letter,  and  put  it  in  the 
First  Baptist  Church  in  San  Francisco.  My  brother 
was  not  a  church  member,  but  he  had  correct  notions 
of  how  a  Christian  should  live,  and  what  was  best  for 
a  young  fellow  in  my  condition. 

In  only  a  few  services,  I  discovered  I  was  in  a  bed 
of  South  Haters  at  the  First  Church.  I  could 
not  stand  the  flings  at  the  South  from  the  pulpit. 
The  Methodist  South  had  a  little  church  in  the  city. 
The  preacher  was  O.  P.  Fitzgerald,  a  strong  South- 
erner, and  a  good  preacher.    Across  the  Bay,  at  Oak- 


34  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

land  where  I  entered  school,  there  were  half  a  dozen 
Southern  families  from  Mississippi.  Among  them  a 
family  of  Glasscocks,  whose  son  John,  afterwards  be- 
came a  Congressman.  These  were  all  Southern  Meth- 
odists and  Fitzgerald  had  an  afternoon  appointment  to 
which  I  went  regularly.  Southerners  were  not  numer- 
ous, but  in  these  critical  times,  they  were  drawn  close 
together.  Fitzgerald,  after  the  war,  became  a  Bishop, 
and  lived  for  years  in  Nashville.  When  the  Southern 
Baptist  Convention  was  in  session  there,  he  delivered  a 
short  address.  During  recess  I  shook  his  hand,  with 
the  remark :  "You  never  saw  me  before."  to  which  he 
instantly  replied :  "Yes,  it  is  Crumpton.  I  knew  you 
by  your  voice."  It  had  been  fifty  years  since  we  had 
met. 

A  great  Presbyterian  church,  in  the  heart  of  San 
Francisco,  had  as  pastor  a  Doctor  Scott,  originally 
from  New  Orleans.  A  large  number  of  his  members 
were  Southerners.  I  frequented  his  church  and  be- 
came acquainted  in  his  family.  As  the  War  went  on, 
no  one  can  imagine  the  trouble  and  danger  to  a 
Southern  man  in  San  Francisco  at  that  time.  The  war 
never  touched  California  directly,  because  of  its  re- 
moteness, without  railroad  communication,  but  there 
were  many  exciting  scenes.  The  two  preachers  named 
came  into  my  life  at  a  critical  period,  and  were  valu- 
able helpers  to  the  boy  in  tiding  him  over  some  rough 
places. 

In  such  an  atmosphere  as  we  breathed  in  San  Fran- 
cisco in  those  days,  it  was  not  strange  that  Southern 
sympathizers  began  laying  plans  and  schemes  to  get 
away  to  the  South. 

Companies  were  secretly  organized  and  meeting 
places  agreed  upon  far  out  on  the  eastern  border. 
Some  of  these  companies  were  butchered  by  the  In- 
dians ;  others  overtaken  and  captured  by  the  Federal 
cavalry.     My  brother,   suspecting  my   state   of  mind, 


X  i.         XJKJKJ  1 


came  out  and  we  held  a  conference.  He  had  large  in- 
terests there  and  some  in  Alabama.  He  proposed  to 
leave  me  there  to  look  after  his  affairs  while  he  came 
through  the  lines ;  but  that  was  not  my  mind  at  all. 
I  announced  my  purpose  to  go.  He  was  opposed  to 
my  attempting  the  trip  across  the  plains,  no  matter 
how  strong  the  company  that  accompanied  me.  He 
wanted  me  to  run  no  risks.  He  planned  the  trip — 
back  over  the  same  route  to  New  York,  thence  to 
Wisconsin,  to  the  home  of  an  old  friend,  to  remain 
until  spring — meantime  corresponding  with  Col.  U.  S. 
Grant,  the  military  commander  at  Cairo,  111.,  to  get  a 
pass,  if  possible,  on  some  pretext  or  other,  through  the 
lines. 

My  firm  resolve  against  ever  again  going  on 
an  ocean  steamer  had  to  be  broken.  I  was  in 
a  condition  of  mind,  which  would  have  made  me 
willing  to  attempt  the  trip  in  a  balloon.  On 
November  30,  1861,  I  took  the  steamer.  On  Janu- 
ary 1st,  I  reached  my  destination  at  Beloit,  Wis.  The 
trip  was  full  of  interesting  incidents,  but  I  mention 
only  one.  I  made  the  acquaintance  on  the  steamer  of 
a  Marylander,  who  had  been  in  California  for  many 
years.  His  destination  was  Baltimore.  He  expected 
to  get  through  the  lines  and  join  the  Confederate  cav- 
alry. When  we  reached  New  York,  he  gave  me  a  lit- 
tle four  barrel  Sharp's  pistol  with  one  hundred  cart- 
ridges. He  expected  to  equip  himself  with  something 
more  formidable.  This,  the  only  pistol  I  ever  owned, 
was  one  of  the  most  harmless  weapons  I  ever  saw.  I 
mention  it  now  only  to  introduce  it  later. 

At  Beloity  Wisconsin,  or  rather,  four  miles  in 
the  country,  I  met  a  warm  welcome  from  my 
brother's  old  friends.  He  had  met  them  in  Cal- 
ifornia in  the  early  days.  I  learned  also  that 
there  was  a  match  brewing  between  him  and  the 
oldest  daughter,  which  was  afterwards  consummated. 


How  the  snow  did  pile  up  soon  after  I  reached 
Wisconsin!  I  had  never  seen  the  like  before.  My 
friends,  knowing  that  I  was  a  Southerner  and  unused 
to  such  severe  weather,  were  as  tender  of  me  as  if  I 
had  been  a  baby;  but  in  a  few  days  I  did  not  at  all 
mind  it.  Winter  time  is  the  time  for  visiting  in  the 
North,  and  so  I  was  on  the  go  with  the  family  much 
of  the  time.  Another  way  I  spent  mv  time  wps  to  go 
out  in  the  deep  snow  in  the  fields.  Sometimes  a  rab- 
l)it,  frightened  at  my  crushing  through  the  crust  of 
the  snow,  would  jump  out  of  his  hole  ten  feet  away 
and  sit  for  a  moment,  loath  to  run  away  in  the  cold. 
Many  a  time  I  emptied  my  pistol  at  him.  and  would 
then  throw  the  gun  at  him  before  he  would  run  away. 
That  gun  will  be  heard  from  again. 

Without  any  talk  about  it,  I  secured  a  large  map 
of  the  "Seat  of  the  war  in  the  West."  This  I  put 
on  the  wall  in  the  dining  room.  It  gave  all  the  pubHc 
roads.  With  the  study  of  the  map,  I  read  diligently 
the  Chicago  Daily  Times,  which  gave  the  movements 
of  troops  along  the  route  I  might  choose.  I  picked 
out  two  routes ;  one  through  Southeast  Missouri,  the 
other  through  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  both  branch- 
ing out  from  Southern  Illinois.  My  brother  hoped  I 
would  become  satisfied  to  remain  in  this  lovely  North- 
ern home  and  go  to  school,  but  I  was  bent  on  going  to 
the  war.  I  did  as  he  suggested,  however ;  I  corre- 
sponded with  Col.  U.  S.  Grant,  commandant  at  the 
post  at  Cairo,  111.,  afterwards  the  great  General  and 
twice  President,  asking  for  a  pass  through  the  Hues, 
and  received  a  very  kind  letter  in  reply,  denying  the 
request. 

I  might  have  remained  in  Wisconsin  until  spring, 
when  I  could  have  had  better  weather  and  more 
money,  but  for  an  incident  I  will  presently  relate. 

The  fall  of  Fort  Donelson,  in  Tennessee,  was  a 
fearful     blow     to     me.     Of     course     there      was      a 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  Z7 

great  exultation  everywhere  up  North.  I  saw 
and  heard  it  all,  l^ut  could  say  nothing.  One  day 
while  in  Beloit,  I  saw  a  great  crowd  on  the  sidewalk. 
Drawing  near  I  discovered  the  attraction.  It  was  a 
butternut  jeans  jacket,  which  had  been  taken  off  a 
dead  Confederate  at  Ft.  Donelson.  It  was  shot  through 
and  was  saturated  with  blood.  On  it  was  a  large 
placard  with  these  words : 

"Taken  from  the  dead  body  of  Private  Turner  of 
the  Mississippi  Rifles  on  the  battlefield  of  Fort  Don- 
elson. 

I  gazed  at  it  for  a  moment  and  heard  the  exultant 
laugh  and  jeers  from  the  toughs  who  gathered  about 
it.  I  turned  away  with  clenched  teeth,  determined 
to  go  South  at  all  hazards  at  once.  I  announced  to 
my  friends  that  evening,  that  I  was  going  to  Chicago, 
a  hundred  miles  away,  next  morning  to  see  the  Fort 
Donelson  prisoners  who  were  confined  in  Camp  Doug- 
las. 

I  had  only  a  little  money.  I  could  have  gotten  more 
from  my  friends  if  I  had  asked  for  it,  but  I  thought 
possibly  I  might  be  captured  and  tracked  back  to  their 
home  and  get  them  in  trouble.  I  wanted  them  to  have 
the  privilege  of  saying  they  knew  nothing  at  all  about 
my  plans  and  for  the  same  reason,  I  did  not  care  for 
them  to  know  of  my  intentions.  Lest  I  should  create 
some  suspicion,  I  took  no  satchel  with  me.  On  the 
6th  of  March,  1862,  I  started.  With  a  shawl  securely 
strapped,  in  which  I  had  slipped  a  shirt,  with  every 
scratch  of  pen  or  pencil,  by  which  I  might  be  identi- 
fied, destroyed,  I  bade  farewell  to  my  friends,  with  no 
expectation  of  returning  again. 

I  shall  say  now  and  then  that  things  "happened," 
but  I  do  not  believe  that  things  "happen".  I  think  they 
are  all  a  part  of  the  chain  of  God's  great  plan. 


38  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Things  Don*t  Happen. 

It  so  happened  that  I  put  up  at  the  Madison  House 
in  passing  through  Chicago,  and  so  I  naturally  went 
back  to  the  same  place  in  returning  to  the  city,  and 
this  happened  to  be  the  headquarters  of  Colonel  Mul- 
ligan, the  Commandant  of  Camp  Douglas.  Arriving 
there  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  I  got  aboard  a 
street  car  and  went  out  to  the  Camp.  Looking  through 
the  open  gate,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  Confederate 
soldiers.  They  were  all  dressed  in  butternut  jeans. 
In  the  beginning,  the  Confederates  did  not  wear  the 
grey,  because  they  did  not  have  it.  The  cloth  made 
all  over  the  country  by  the  mothers  and  sisters  was 
jeans,  the  color  of  butternut. 

Returning  to  the  hotel;  after  supper,  I  wrote  the 
very  best  note  I  could  to  Col.  Mulligan  and  sent  it  up 
to  his  rooms.  Expecting  every  moment  to  be  called 
up  into  his  office ;  minutes  seemed  hours.  I  am  sure, 
if  my  fears  had  been  realized,  it  would  have  taken  only 
about  two  questions  to  have  tangled  me.  What  would 
have  happened  then,  I  have  no  idea,  but  I  guess  I 
would  have  been  arrested  and  probably  thrown  into 
prison  as  a  Southern  sympathizer.  But  to  my  great 
delight,  the  servant  returned  with  a  card  on  a  silver 
waiter  and  on  it  was  written : 
"Let  Mr.  W.  B.  Crumpton  Into  the  Camp  Tomorrow." 

As  soon  as  I  could  get  my  breakfast  the  next  morn- 
ing, I  was  on  my  way  to  the  Camp.  On  entering  the 
open  gate,  I  saw  the  barracks  of  an  Alabama  Regi- 
ment. The  Barracks,  were  long,  low  buildings.  The 
Camp  was  laid  ofif  like  a  city,  with  streets  and  alleys. 
I  entered  the  building  at  once  and  in  a  moment  was 
surrounded  by  a  large  number  of  men.  I  said:  "You 
are  Alabamians,  and  so  am  I.  I  have  been  to  Califor- 
nia. I  am  on  my  way  back.  I  expect  to  start  tomor- 
row morning  from  this  City,  to  go  through  the  lines 
and  join  the   Confederate  army."     I   rattled    off    the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  39 

words  very  rapidly,  never  realizing  for  a  moment  the 
danger  I  might  be  in.  When  I  reached  the  end  of 
the  sentence,  I  looked  into  their  faces,  and  they  look- 
ed like  boards,  not  a  feature  indicated  any  sympathy 
for  what  I  said. 

It  was  paralyzing ;  but  fortunately  a  Mississippian 
happened  to  be  there.  Why  he  was  there  I 
never  did  know,  but  when  I  had  finished  my  speech,  he 
said:  "Did  you  say  your  name  was  Crumpton?"  I 
said  "yes."  "And  do  your  father  and  sisters  live  in 
Mississippi?"  I  said  "yes."  "And  did  you  visit  them 
before  you  went  to  California?"  I  replied,  "yes,  two 
years  ago."  "Well,"  he  said,  "I  belong  to  a  Company 
right  from  their  neighborhood.  I  did  not  see  you,  but 
I  heard  the  people  speaking  about  your  visit.  Come 
with  me  and  I  will  introduce  you  to  the  boys  who  can 
tell  you  about  your  people."  He  took  me  to  his  bar- 
racks, several  hundred  yards  away,  carried  me  back 
into  a  dark  corner,  and  said  in  a  low  tone :  "You  are 
in  great  danger.  You  must  keep  your  mouth  shut.  I 
am  not  surprised  at  your  being  carried  away  at  meet- 
ing those  Alabamians,  but  there  is  a  rumor  out  among 
us,  that  they  are  going  to  take  the  oath  and  go  West 
and  relieve  the  Regulars  there,  who  will  be  sent  to 
the  front  and,  we  believe  it.  I  know  you  must  have 
observed  the  indifference  that  they  manifested  when 
you  were  talking.  Probably  some  of  them  will  be- 
tray you  today  before  you  get  out.  You  stay  with  us, 
and  late  this  evening,  I  will  see  if  I  can't  get  you  out 
through  another  gate.  I  hardly  think  they  will  know 
where  my  quarters  are,  as  I  am  a  perfect  stranger  to 
them.  It  was  only  an  accident  that  I  was  present 
when  you  came  in." 

This  is  the  first  lesson  I  had  in  "Shut- Mouth" 
and  it  has  served  me  all  my  days.  You  may  be  sure 
I  did  not  need  a  second  invitation  to  remain  with  them. 
Numbers  of  the  boys  talked  with  me,  and  we  had  a 


40  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

pleasant  day.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  my  friend  con- 
ducted me  in  sight  of  another  gate.  I  divided  my 
money  with  him  and  left. 

When  returning  to  the  hotel,  I  satisfied  myself 
about  the  way  the  Illinois  Central  R.  R.  ran  out  from 
the  city,  because  that  was  the  route  I  expected  to  take. 
It  didn't  make  any  difference  then  with  me  about 
lower,  or  upper  berths.  The  next  morning,  Sunday, 
the  9th'^of  March,  with  my  shawl  wrapped  in  a  hand- 
strap,  and  my  overcoat  and  rubbers  on, 

I  started  out  afoot  down  the  railroad.  Fifteen 
miles  below,  was  the  town  of  Calumet,  now  a 
part  of  the  city;  I  reached  there  about  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon,  and  went  into  the  eating  house  by  the 
railroad.  There  a  large  number  of  men  gathered  around 
the  stove,  talking  about  the  war.  About  six  o'clock 
they  broke  up  and  went  to  their  homes  for  supper, 
and  I  was  left  alone  with  the  proprietor,  who  was  al- 
so the  railroad  agent. 

I  had  made  it  up  with  my  friends  at  Camp  Douglass, 
if  I  should  be  captured  I  would  claim  my  name  was 
Hardy,  one  of  their  comrades,  who  had  been  left  some- 
where, and  they  would  recognize  me  as  Hardy.  In 
that  way,  later  on,  I  would  be  exchanged  and  get 
through.  It  was  a  poorly  put  up  story,  but  that  was 
the  understanding. 

So  I  did  not  expect  to  be  Crumpton  any  more.  The 
proprietor  said :  "You  seem  to  be  traveling." 
I  said  "yes."  "Afoot?"  "Yes."  "Where  are  you  from." 
"Beloit,  Wisconsin."  "What  is  your  name?"  I  said 
"Crumpton."  Immediately  he  took  my  breath  by  say- 
ing:    "You  are  lately  from  California,  aren't  you?" 

Forty  frogs  seemed  to  jump  into  my  throat.  I 
choked  them  down  the  best  I  could  and  finally  said : 
"Yes,  sir,  but  how  did  you  know  it?"  He  said:  "Do 
you  know  Safford  in  California?"  I  said  "yes,  one  of 
the  best  friends  I  ever  had."    "Well,"  he  replied,  "Saf- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  41 

ford  and  I  were  reared  down  in  Cairo.  It  has  been 
years  since  I  was  there,  but  last  Christmas  I  went  to 
visit  the  old  scenes  and,  among  others,  called  on  his 
brother.  He  showed  me  a  letter  from  the  California 
brother,  in  which  he  said  a  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Crumpton  had  gone  to  Beloit,  Wisconsin,  and  he 
had  sent  some  Japanese  and  Chinese  curiosities  by 
him."  I  said,  "y^s,  I  am  the  boy.  I  sent  the  curios  by 
express  a  month  ago,  and  I  expect  to  see  the  Saffords 
on  this  trip."  I  did  not  deserve  anything  for  telling 
the  truth ;  my  intention  was  to  tell  a  lie.  Suppose  I 
had  said  my  name  was  Hardy:  His  next  word  would 
have  been  :  "Do  you  know  a  young  fellow  by  the  name 
of  "Crumpton,  latel}^  from  California?"  Then  I  would 
have  been  into  it. 

Resuming  the  conversation,  he  said:  "How  is  it 
that  you  are  afoot?"  My  reply  was:  "My  brother 
promised  to  send  me  money  and  when  he  did  not  do  it, 
I  became  impatient  and  determined  to  go  without  it. 
"Where  are  you  going?"  I  said:  "To  Vienna."  It  was 
a  place  I  had  picked  out  on  the  map,  about  twenty 
miles  East  of  Anna  Station.  I  guessed  it  was  a  very  in- 
significant place.  Anna  Station  was  the  Camp  of  In- 
struction for  the  Federal  Army,  about  twenty  miles 
north  of  Cairo.  I  had  chosen  that  as  my  point  of  des- 
tination, as  no  one  would  suspect  me  if  I  should  be 
going  where  the  Federal  soldiers  were.  My  friend  said : 
"Young  man,  you  are  surely  not  acquainted  with  the 
prairie  and  the  winter  weather.  It  is  pleasant  for  this 
time  of  the  year,  but  in  a  few  days  snow  storms  and 
blizzards  will  be  the  order  and  any  man,  taking  the 
trip  you  propose  afoot,  would  freeze  to  death.  It  is 
out  of  the  question  for  you  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  it 
is  near  three  hundred  miles."  I  said:  "Well,  I  will 
go  until  the  storm  breaks  out." 

He  said,  "you  remain  with  me  tonight.  It  shan't 
cost  you  anything,  and  in  the  morning  I  will  see  if  I 


42  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

can't  get  you  a  ticket  to  Anna  Station."  I  said:  "I 
like  to  settle  things  in  my  mind ;  think  I  can  sleep 
better.  I  have  a  little  pistol  here  which  was  given  me 
by  a  friend.  It  is  hardly  of  any  value  to  anybody  ex- 
cept me,  but  if  you  will  take  it  in  pawn,  for  two  weeks  ; 
for  a  ticket  to  Anna  Station,  I  will  take  the  ticket ; 
otherwise  I  will  pursue  my  journey  afoot."  He  final- 
ly agreed  to  do  as  I  proposed  and  I  turned  over  the 
pistol  to  him.  Really  it  was  a  relief  to  get  rid  of  it, 
for  I  had  been  uneasy  every  minute  I  had  it  in  my 
pocket. 

The  next  morning  I  took  the  train  which  was 
loaded  down  with  FederjJ  soldiers,  going  to 
Anna  Station.  They  were  all  young  men,  in 
blue  uniform  and  had  large,  well  filled  knapsacks. 
I  don't  think  I  spoke  a  word  to  anybody  that  day.  If 
any  one  asked  me  a  question,  I  answered  only  in 
monosyllables.  I  saw  these  boys  take  new  Bibles  out 
of  their  knapsacks  and  begin  to  read  them.  Nearly 
every  one  of  them  had  a  Bible.  I  did  not  understand 
it  until,  a  few  weeks  later,  when  my  own  sister  pre- 
sented me  with  a  Bible,  as  I  started  to  the  army,  with 
the  injunction  that  I  should  read  it. 

A  little  before  day  I  reached  Anna  Station ; 
At  Daylight  I  started  West  to  the  Mississippi  River, 
instead  of  east  to  Vienna.  Taking  dinner  with  a  far- 
mer, who  was  evidently  in  sympathy  with  the  South- 
ern people,  he  said :  "How  are  you  going  to  get  cross 
the  river?"  I  said:  *Ts  there  no  ferry  there?"  "No, 
there  is  a  place  where  the  ferry  was,  but  all  the  boats 
from  St.  Louis  to  Cairo  have  been  destroyed  by  the 
Federals,  except  one  belonging  to  a  fisherman,  four 
miles  above  the  old  ferry,  but  he  is  a  Union  man  and 
would  see  you  dead  before  he  would  put  you  over." 
About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  I  reached  the  aban- 
doned ferry.  I  suppose  the  Mississippi  River  was  low- 
er than  it  had  ever  been  at  that  time  of  the  year.    A 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  43 

large  sand  bar  extended  out  into  the  river  and  the 
stream  was  very  narrov^  where  it  swept  around  the  bar. 
I  went  up  to  the  head  of  the  sand  bar  and  found  drift- 
wood of  every  imaginable  kind.  I  had  in  mind  to  come 
back  and  attempt  to  make  a  raft  on  which  I  might 
pole  or  paddle  myself  across,  if  I  should  fail  in  getting 
across  in  the  fisherman's  boat.  As  I  approached  the 
house  of  the  fisherman,  I  saw  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  in  the  village.  Neely's  Landing,  was  the 
name,  a  large  number  of  men.  Evidently  they 
were  having  a  lot  of  sport ;  I  guessed  they  had 
much  liquor  aboard.  I  got  the  woman  to  call  her  hus- 
band. I  saw  him  and  a  companion  coming  down  the 
river  bank  on  the  other  side.  I  discovered  at  once 
that  they  were  intoxicated.  As  they  came  up,  the 
owmer  of  the  boat  said:  "Who  are  you?"  "I  am  a 
young  fellow  from  Beloit,  Wis.,  going  to  Greenville, 
Mo."  "Well,  how  do  you  know  you  are  going?"  I 
replied :  "I  don't  know  it.  I  suppose  it  depends  on  you. 
but  I  am  very  anxious  to  get  across."  He  said :  "Well, 
old  fellow,  are  you  loyal?  I  am  sworn  not  to  put 
anybody  across  here  except  loyal  men,  and  I  would 
get  into  a  world  of  trouble  if  I  should  put  a  rebel 
across."  I  said :  "How  can  a  man  be  otherwise  than 
loyal  when  he  comes  from  Beloit,  Wis.?  I  was  in 
Chicago  just  day  before  yesterday  and  I  expect,  just 
as  soon  as  I  get  back  home,  to  join  the  army."  So  af- 
ter a  good  deal  of  parley,  he  said:  "Well,  it  will  take 
one  dollar  in  advance,"  which  I  readily  paid,  that  left 
me  one  dollar  in  my  pocket.  I  was  anxious  to  make  a 
good  impression  on  him  as  to  my  loyalty,  so  I  said,  as 
we  were  crossing:  "Is  there  any  danger  of  my  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  rebels  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river?"  He  said:  "I  should  say,  and  if  they  run  up  on 
you  they  will  kill  you  sure."  I  said:  "That  would  be 
awful.  I  think  maybe  I  can  walk  two  miles  before 
night;  tell  me  the  name  of  some  loyal  man  out  a  little 


44  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

piece,  where  I  could  stay  all  night  and  be  safe."  He 
said:  *'A11  right  I'll  just  take  you  up  to  the  man  and 
introduce  you,  he  will  take  care  of  you."  I  saw  at 
once  I  had  spoken  one  word  too  many.  I  didn't  want 
to  be  introduced  to  anybody  by  that  man,  especially 
to  a  loyal  man.  How  was  I  going  to  get  out  of  it 
was  the  question! 

Just  as  the  boat  landed,  there  came  a  number  of  men 
down  the  bank,  cursing  and  swearing  at  these  fel- 
lows. Evidently  they  had  formed  a  conspiracy  to 
whip  them  when  they  got  back.  They  commenced 
fighting  and  rolled  into  the  edge  of  the  river  before 
I  left.  When  I  got  to  the  top  of  the  bank,  I  saw  all 
the  people  of  the  town  coming  my  way,  evidently,  bent 
on  seeing  the  fight.  I  did  not  care  to  meet  them,  so  I 
took  a  path  running  down  the  river  bank  and  walked 
ofif  just  as  if  I  lived  down  that  way.  I  have  no  idea 
that  there  was  a  man  in  the  crowd  that  could  have 
remembered  seeing  m.e,  if  he  had  been  sworn,  they 
were  so  intent  on  seeing  that  fight  they  had  no  eyes  for 
anything  else. 

I  stayed  that  night  with  a  galvanized  man  who 
lived  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  found  out 
that  he  had  been  with  Jefif  Thompson,  the  Con- 
federate Cavalry  General,  but  had  been  caught  and 
made  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance.  Such  men, 
I  afterwards  discovered,  were  called  "galvanized" 
men.  Before  I  left  the  house,  the  next  morning, 
I  was  treated  to  the  sight  of  a  steamboat,  loaded 
with  Federal  soldiers,  going  down  the  river.  They 
w^ere  cheered  lustily  by  the  negroes,  but  the  white 
man  and  I  observed  them  in  silence.  Of  course,  I  told 
him  nothing  about  my  intentions,  except  that  I  was 
going  to  Greenville,  Mo.  Thinking  it  possible  that  it 
might  be  difficult  to  get  a  letter  back  to  my  friends 
later  on,  I  wanted  to  find  a  stiitable  place  to  write. 
This   I  discovered  by  questioning  an  old  negro.     He 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  45 

said  he  belonged  to  *'Marse  John  OHver.  Young 
Marse  John  was  with  Jeff  Thompson  and  Miss  Mary 
was  at  home."  I  concluded  I  could  confide  in  the  mo- 
ther after  that  information,  so  I  approached  the  house 
and  introduced  myself  to  the  lady,  telling  her  that  I 
was  going  South  and  wanted  to  write  some  letters 
back  to  my  friends.  She  kindly  showed  me  a  back 
room  and  gave  me  stationery.  I  wrote  to  my  friends 
in  Wisconsin,  begging  their  pardon  for  deceiving  them, 
and  asking  them  to  redeem  my  pistol,  so  that  the 
man  at  Calumet  might  not  lost  anything. 

This  they  did  and  three  years  after,  they  sent  the 
pistol  to  me,  and  I  have  it  now,  as  a  souvenir  of  those 
days. 

The  lady  said :  "I  w^ould  be  very  glad  for  you  to 
spend  the  afternoon  and  night  with  us,  so  that  my 
husband  might  see  you ;  but  it  would  be  dangerous 
for  you  and  for  us.  The  Home  Guards  are  roaming 
through  the  country  all  the  time,  and  if  you  should 
be  found  here,  they  might  have  my  husband  arrested 
and  carried  off  to  prison,  on  the  charge  of  harboring 
a  rebel,  or  they  might  burn  our  property  down.  There 
is  no  telling  what  they  would  do.  I  am  very  uneasy 
for  you,  lest  they  shall  meet  you  and  kill  you."  These 
Home  Guards,  as  I  afterwards  found  out,  were  irre- 
sponsible soldiers,  most  of  them  Germans,  who  were 
but  little  more  than  marauders,  and,  I  afterwards  found 
that  we  had  some  of  the  same  sort  among  the  Con- 
federates. I  had  but  little  apprehension  of  trouble, 
as  I  was  to  go  to  places  where  there  were  Federal 
garrisons.  I  went  through  the  first  town  late  in  the 
afternoon  with  a  "galvanized"  man  whom  I  happened 
to  meet  just  before  reaching  the  village.  I  saw  the 
soldiers  all  around  on  the  streets,  drinking  and  ca- 
rousing. A  little  further  along,  I  spent  the  night  in  a 
home  where  an  old  gentleman  and  his  family  were 
living,  taking   care  of  the  plantation  and   slaves  be- 


46  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

longing  to  a  young  man  who  was  with  Jeff  Thompson. 
Of  course  they  told  me  very  much  about  the  war,  but 
I  said  nothing  to  them  further  than  that  I  was  going 
to  Greenville.  The  next  morning  when  I  came  down 
stairs,  I  found  the  girls  on  the  back  veranda.  Being 
of  a  confiding  disposition,  especially  with  pretty  girls, 
I  told  them  in  a  few  words  that  I  was  going  South  to 
the  Confederate  Army.  Just  then  breakfast  was  an- 
nounced. I  sat  down  to  the  table  with  my  back  to- 
wards the  front  door,  and  the  girls  sat  on  the  opposite 
side,  in  full  view  of  the  public  road.  As  I  was  chat- 
ting with  them,  casting  sheep's  eyes  the  while,  I  no- 
ticed one  of  them  suddenly  change  color,  as  she  gazed 
intently  towards  the  front  door,  and 

She  remarked:  "The  road  is  full  of  Yainkees." 
Immediately  the  frogs  leaped  into  my  throat,  and  I 
was  wondering  what  I  would  say  to  the  fellows  when 
they  came  in.  One  girl  bounded  towards  the  door  and 
stood  in  it.  It  was  the  days  of  the  hoop-skirt  and  she 
just  about  filled  the  door,  so  that  nobody  might  see 
past  her.  The  other  girl  begged  me  to  run  up  stairs 
and  hide,  which  I  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  do.  The 
old  people  were  paralyzed,  because  they  did  not  un- 
derstand it  at  all.  I  hastily  informed  them  of  what  I 
had  told  the  girls.  That  is  one  time,  I  don't  know 
what  I  ate  for  breakfast.  It  might  have  been  knives 
and  forks  and  salt  cellars  for  all  I  knew,  but  I  kept 
eating.  The  girl  in  the  door  turned  her  head  and 
said:  "They  are  going  into  the  lot."  The  old  gentle- 
man remarked :  "I  don't  reckon  they  are  coming  in  the 
house  at  all ;  they  left  some  wounded  horses  with  me 
several  weeks  ago  and  told  me  yesterday  they  were 
going  to  send  after  them."  It  was  a  great  relief  to 
hear  that,  but  I  could  not  understand  why  a  whole 
regiment  should  have  come  after  a  few  horses.  Pres- 
ently the  girl  said:     "They  are  going  off,"  and  I  felt 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  47 

a  pressure  removed,  equal  to  five  hundred  bales  of  cot- 
ton. I  felt  as  light  as  a  feather  and  if  I  had  had  wings, 
I  certainly  would  have  used  them. 

Each  of  these  two  nights,  I  spent  twenty-five  cents, 
and  that  carried  with  it  a  lunch  for  the  next  day. 

I  left  and  went  forty-five  miles  that  day.  Mind 
you,  I  did  not  say  I  walked  it ;  when  I  was  dead 
sure  nobody  saw  me,  I  ran.  I  saw  very  few  people  that 
day.  The  Home  Guards  had  done  their  work  well,  as 
the  burned  houses  indicated  on  every  side. 

Late  that  afternoon  I  was  told  that  I  was  approach- 
ing another  village,  but  I  need  not  go  by  the  village 
if  I  did  not  wnsh  to ;  I  could  turn  to  the  left  and  cross 
the  creek  lower  down  both  roads  led  to  Green- 
ville. I  had  no  business  in  the  town,  so  I  took  the 
left  hand.  Just  before  night  I  came  to  a  deep,  narrow, 
ugly  little  stream  that  had  no  bridge  across  it.  No- 
body had  been  fording  it.  I  looked  in  vain  for  a  log 
on  which  to  cross  it.  I  didn't  want  to  go  up  the  stream, 
for  that  would  carry  me  up  into  the  town.  I  found 
a  pole,  that  probably  nothing  but  a  squirrel  had  ever 
crossed  on,  but  I  ventured  to  straddle  it,  and  inched 
myself  across.  A  kodak  could  have  gotten  a  pic- 
ture worth  while  then.  Getting  on  the  other  side,  I 
went  up  to  the  most  desolate  looking  home  I  had  ever 
seen.  Not  a  sign  of  life,  except  now  and  then  the 
cackle  of  a  chicken  flying  to  the  roost.  I  knocked  at 
the  front  door,  but  no  response  coming,  like  a  tramp, 
I  went  around  to  the  kitchen.  There  was  an  old  lady, 
standing  before  an  old-fashioned  fire  place,  /cook- 
ing supper.  It  seemed  to  me  I  never  smelt  the  fry- 
ing of  bacon  that  was  so  delicious  in  my  life.  I  said : 
*T  am  traveling  and  am  very  tired;  I  want  to  stay  all 
night  with  you,  please  ma'am."  She  invited  me  in 
saying :  "Sit  down  by  the  fire  here ;  when  my  son 
comes,  maybe  he  will  let  you  stay.  I  don't  know 
whether  he  will  or  not,  he  is  mighty  curious."     The 


48  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

kitchen  had  a  dirt  floor.  She  put  corn  bread  and  fried 
meat  on  the  table  and  invited  me  to  put  my  stool  up 
to  the  table  and  eat,  which  I  was  not  slow  to  do. 

Just  then  there  came  in  such  a  man  as  I  have  never 
seen,  I  judge  he  was  about  twenty-one  with  immense 
jaws,  high  cheek  bones,  just  a  little  space  between  his 
eyebrows  and  hair,  overhanging  eyebrows  and  a  way- 
back,  little  beady  eyes.  He  scowled  at  me,  then  said 
to  the  old  lady:  "Who's  this  you've  got  here?"  I 
looked  up  and  said:  "Good  evening  sir,  your  mother 
was  kind  enough  to  invite  me  in.  I  want  to  stay  all 
night  with  you  and  I  hope  you  can  accommodate  me." 
He  took  his  old  slouch  hat  off,  threw  it  on  the  floor, 
sat  down  and  went  to  eating.  Not  a  word  passed. 
That  is  another  time  I  don't  know  what  I  ate.  I  eyed 
him  and  he  eyed  me,  but  I  mostly  eyed  the  grub.  He 
got  through  before  I  did,  picked  up  his  hat  and  shot 
out  the  door  without  a  word.  He  had  been  gone  not 
ten  minutes,  when  the  biggest  rain  I  ever  heard,  be- 
gan to  fall  and  I  judge  it  fell  through  the  whole  night. 
The  old  lady  showed  me  to  a  bed  and  I  retired,  won- 
dering whether  I  would  wake  up  dead  or  alive,  feeling 
pretty  certain  that  I  would  wake  up  dead,  for  I  was 
sure  that  boy  was  bent  on  mischief.  Next  morning,  I 
had  my  breakfast  by  candle-light,  paid  the  old  lady 
a  quarter,  and  said  to  her :  *T  am  completely  broken 
down,  my  feet  are  blistered  and  swollen,  I  could  hard- 
ly get  my  shoes  on  this  morning.  I  have  no  money. 
Is  there  anybody  living  near  here,  on  whom  it  w^ould 
not  be  an  imposition,  who  might  let  me  rest  until 
Monday  morning?"  The  reply  was:  'T  have  a  son 
about  three  miles  down  the  road.  He  is  plenty  able 
to  do  it  if  he  would,  but  he  is  curiouser  than  that  boy 
you  saw  here  last  night."  When  I  got  out  the  front 
gate,  I  looked  down  on  that  insignificant  little  old 
creek,  and  there  was  a  stream  of  water  big  enough  to 
float  the  navy  of  the  United  States.     It  did  not  dawn 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  49 

on  me  then,  but  later  I  felt  sure  that  boy  crossed  the 
creek  and  went  to  town  to  report  me  to  the  Yankees 
and  that  rain  and  overflow  prevented  his  designs  from 
being  carried  out.  Doubtless  the  stream  remained  up 
the  greater  part  of  two  days.  I  trudged  along,  drag- 
ging my  feet  as  best  I  could,  and  after  so  long  a  time, 
reached  the  home  of  this  "curiouser"  son.  He  came 
out  and  stood  on  the  stoop  to  listen  to  my  yarn  about 
going  to  Greenville. 

He  was  not  a  prayer-meeting  man,  I  Judged  from 
his  language.  He  said:  "Do  you  think  I  am  a 
fool?  You  are  nothing  but  a  little  old  rebel  or 
some  little  old  boy  going  to  the  rebels.  I  hope  to  God 
the  Home  Guards  will  find  you  today  and  kill  you. 
If  I  see  any  of  them  I  am  going  to  put  them  on  your 
track."  Of  course  I  had  no  further  argument  with  that 
man.  I  went  off  a  few  hundred  yards,  felt  of  my 
knees  to  see  if  there  were  any  joints  there,  for  up  to 
that  time,  I  had  not  discovered  them  that  day.  How 
mad  I  did  get !  I  gritted  my  teeth,  shook  my  fist, 
bowed  my  neck,  and  shot  out,  going  thirty-five  miles. 
I  never  saw  a  soul  all  day. 

The  remains  of  burned  homes  I  could  see  ;  now  and 
them  a  place  was  spared  and  evidently  the  people 
were  about,  but  out  of  sight.  I  was  almost  in  despair 
of  reaching  a  place  to  spend  the  night,  when  just  be- 
fore dark,  I  looked  down  and  saw  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  sights  I  ever  beheld.'  It  was  an  old  country 
home,  the  doors  wide  open,  good  fires  burning,  the 
negro  quarters  stretching  out  and  fires  burning  bright- 
ly in  the  cabins.  I  heard  the  lowing  of  cattle,  the 
bleating  of  sheep,  the  cackling  of  poultry,  all  indicat- 
ing a  place  of  plenty.  I  found  it  to  be  an  old  lady's 
home,  whose  son  and  grand  son  had  been  with  Jeff 
Thompson,  captured  and  galvanized.  They  were  so 
outspoken,  I  made  bold  that  night  to  tell  them  who 
I  was  and  where  I  was  going.     They  said :     *Tt  is  im- 


50  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

possible  for  you  to  go  any  further  until  Caster  river 
goes  down.  As  the  road  runs,  it  crosses  the  river  three 
times.  There  is  a  possibility  of  3^our  going  far  up 
the  river  and  getting  a  "galvanized"  man  to  put  you 
across  in  a  boat,  and  at  another  place  getting  a  v^idow 
woman  to  send  you  across  on  horseback  and  then 

Reaching  old  *Uncle  McCullough's,'  but  you  ought 
not  to  undertake  it.  Stay  with  us  until  Mon- 
day morning  at  least."  The  old  lady  did  not  hear 
this  conversation.  The  boys  were  off  early  the  next 
morning  to  their  work,  confident  that  I  was  going  to 
remain.  I  concluded  the  mother  ought  to  be  consult- 
ed, and  so  I  ventured  to  say,  as  she  was  washing  the 
dishes  :  "The  boys  said  it  would  be  all  right  for  me 
to  remain  and  rest  here  until  Monday  morning.  I  sup- 
pose it  will  be  all  right  with  you?"  She  said  "y-e-s,  I 
rek-in-so."  I  saw  at  once  that  I  was  not  welcome.  I 
thought  about  it  a  little  while  and  presently  returned 
and  said :  "I  believe,  on  reflection,  if  you  will  fix  me 
up  a  lunch,  I  will  go  on."  She  did  so  without  any 
protest.  "How  much  do  I  owe  you?"  I  asked.  "Half 
a  dollar,"  was  the  reply.  It  was  the  first  time  anybody 
suggested  a  price  like  that  and  I  had  only  a  quarter 
left.  I  took  out  the  quarter  and  said :  "This  is  as  near 
as  I  can  come  to  paying  it."  I  fully  expected  the  old 
soul  to  say  "keep  it,"  bless  your  life,  she  took  it. 

So  I  made  the  trip,  after  many  adventures,  falling 
into  the  overflow  a  time  or  two,  and  reached  "Uncle 
McCullough's"  just  at  night  fall.  Providence  was  lead- 
ing me,  I  believe.  Had  I  carried  out  my  plans  to  re- 
main until  Monday  morning,  that  stream  at  the  vil- 
lage would  have  gone  down  and  the  Yankees  doubtless 
would  have  found  me  there,  then  I  would  have  been 
done  for. 

So  much  for  my  antipathy  to  staying  where  I  am 
not  welcome.  It  served  me  in  good  turn  on  that  oc- 
casion as  it  has  on  many  another. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  51 

"Uncle  McCullough"  was  an  uncle  of  Gen.  Ben  Mc- 
Cullough,  who  was  distinguishing  himself  at  this  time 
as  a  Confederate  General.  As  I  stood  in  the  door 
and  looked  at  the  old  patriarch,  standing  before  a 
large  fire,  in  an  old-fashioned  fireplace, 

I  felt  like  one  in  a  dream,  tie  was  the  same 
height  and  same  complexion  as  my  .own  uncle, 
Richard  Bryan,  with  whom  I  had  lived  when 
a  boy  at  Pleasant  Hill  in  Dallas  county.  The 
similarity  of  the  house,  the  cedar  trees  in  front  and 
the  further  coincidence  of  both  being  class-leaders  in 
the  Methodist  church — I  was  almost  dazed  that  night 
as  I  thought  about  it.  I  said  to  the  old  gentleman:  "I 
am  traveling,  I  have  no  money,  and  I  want  to  stay  all 
night,  please  sir."  The  response  from  his  old  warm 
heart  came  immediately :  "Why  come  in,  my  son,  of 
course  you  can  stay  all  night,  money  don't  make  any 
difference  here.  You  seem  to  be  wet,  you  must  have 
some  dry  clothes,"  with  that  he  took  me  into  another 
room  and  dressed  me  up  in  his  best,  wrung  out  my 
clothes  and  hung  them  before  the  fire  to  dry.  He  took 
me  into  a  kitchen,  with  a  dirt  floor,  identical  with 
"Uncle  Dick's"  home  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  intro- 
duced me  to  a  dear  old  soul  who  was  the  very  image 
of  old  "Aunt  Nancy."  After  supper  I  opened  my  heart 
to  him : 

"I  have  been  saying  I  was  going  to  Greenville.  I 
don't  know  anything  about  Greenville,  or  care  any- 
thing about  it ;  I  want  to  go  South  and  join  the  Con- 
federate army."  The  old  man  said:  "Well,  my  son, 
you  are  dangerously  near  Greenville,  only  twelve 
miles ;  the  Yankees  were  out  here  today  and  may  be 
out  here  tonight.  I  don't  know  what  I  will  do  with ' 
you.  It  is  too  cold  for  you  to  go  out  to  the  fodder- 
loft,  so  I  am  going  to  put  you  in  bed  and  pray  the 
Lord  to  protect  you." 

You  people,  who  don't  believe  in  prayer:     the  boy 


52  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

I  am  telling  you  about,  was  not  very  religious,  but 
when  the  old  patriarch  told  him  he  was  going  to  pray 
for  him ;  he  felt  as  secure  as  if  an  army  of  soldiers 
had  been  around  him. 

We  ate  breakfast  by  candle-light,  and  just  about 
sun-up  we  were  climbing  the  hill  back  of  the  garden. 
When  I  reached  the  toj),  I  saw  stretched  out  for  miles 
Caster  river  bottom,  overflowing  everything.  The 
old  man  said :  "Now,  my  son,  you  will  see  nobody  to- 
day. You  will  find  no  road  except  this  path.  You 
follow  this  trail  right  down  this  ridge  and  you  will 
come  to  Ira  Abernathy's.  There  you  will  have  to  stop. 
It  is  folly  to  try  to  go  any  further  until  the  over- 
flow goes  down.  Nobody  will  ever  find  you  there. 
Ira  is  a  good  Methodist ;  he  has  been  galvanized.  You 
tell  him  that  Uncle  McCullough  sent  you  there  and 
said  for  him  to  take  care  of  you  until  the  river  goes 
down,  it  will  be  all  right."  I  sauntered  along  that 
day,  one  of  the  prettiest  Sundays  I  ever  saw.  Deer, 
turkeys  and  squirrels  were  seen  on  every  side.  Late 
in  the  afternoon,  I  reached  the  end  of  my  journey  and 
delivered  "Uncle  McCullough's"  message.  When  I 
was  through  I  saw  a  face  that  reminded  me  exactly 
of  the  faces  oi  those  Alabamians  in  Chicago  at  Camp 
Douglas.  I  saw  through  it  instantly.  Ira  had  con- 
scientious regard  for  his  oath.  If  he  kept  me  there 
and  it  was  found  out,  it  would  go  hard  with  him. 

Before  I  went  to  bed  my  mind  was  made  up  not  to 
remain.  I  found  out  from  him  it  was  fourteen  miles  to 
Bloomfield  where  the  Confederates  were,  about  nine 
miles  was  overflowed,  that  the  depth  would  not  be 
above  my  waist,  except  at  the  last ;  Duck  Creek  was 
deep  and  dangerous,  that  I  would  pass  only  one  house 
and  that  was  just  before  I  reached  Duck  creek. 

So  the  next  morning  I  started,  and  in  five  minutes 
I  was  knee  deep  in  water.  I  could  tell  the  way  the 
road  ran  by  watching  the  trees,  so  I  kept  just  on  the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  53 

outside  of  the  edge  in  the  woods.  Before  a  great 
while  I  came  to  a  slough,  which  seemed  to  be  dan- 
gerous, and  on  sounding  it  I  found  that  here  was  one 
place  that  my  friend  had  certainly  forgotten ;  it  was 
very  much  over  my  head.  I  turned  to  find  a  log  to  cross 
it,  which  I  successfully  walked,  but  on  going  out  on 
the  other  side  on  a  limb,  the  limb  broke  and  I  fell  into 
the  water.  Remember  this  was  March,  and  it  was  in 
Missouri,  and  you  can  imagine  that  I  was  not  very 
comfortable.  You  can  see  something  of  the  happy- 
go-lucky  boy,  when  I  tell  you,  that  out  there,  half  a 
mile  from  the  road,  wet  as  a  drowned  rat  and  water 
all  around  me,  I  took  out  my  knife  and  stood  for  half 
an  hour  by  the  side  of  a  smooth  beech  tree,  and  carved 
my  name :  "W.  B.  Crumpton,  Pleasant  Hill,  Ala." 
It  is  there  to  this  day,  if  the  forests  have  not  been  de- 
stroyed. 

I  waded  along  throughout  the  day  and  late  that  aft- 
ernoon I  passed  the  house  on  my  right,  the  only  dry 
land  I  had  seen.  Beyond  the  house  a  slough  ran  up 
from  the  overflow  into  a  corn  field.  The  fence  was 
built  up  to  each  end  of  a  log  across  the  slough  and 
rails  were  stuck  in  above  the  log  as  a  sort  of  water 
fence.  Behind  these  rains,  on  the  log  I  was  making 
my  way  across,  when  I  heard  a  corn  stalk  crack  over 
in  the  field. 

Looking  in  that  direction  I  saw  a  Yankee,  in  full 
uniform,  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder.  How  those 
frogs  did  leap  into  my  throat!  What  was  I  to 
do?  I  did  not  dare  to  dodge;  in  that  case,  I  could 
never  have  explained  it  if  he  had  seen  me.  If  I  should 
go  on  the  road,  he  would  probably  see  me,  so  I  eased 
myself  off  the  end  of  the  log  and  walked  straight  away 
from  him  into  the  overflow.  I  had  no  idea  where  I 
was  going,  only  I  knew  I  was  going  away  from  him. 
I  was  feeling  for  bullets  in  my  back  all  the  time,  but  I 
am  sure  that  he  did  not  see  me.    If  he  had,  he  would 


54  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

have  killed  me  and  have  thrown  my  body  in  the  creek. 
Now  see  how  Providence  leads?  If  I  had  followed 
the  road  and  escaped  his  eye,  I  would  have  come  to 
the  creek,  with  no  possible  chance  of  crossing.  Na- 
turally I  would  have  turned  up  the  creek,  never  would 
have  dreamed  of  going  down  into  the  overflow.  As  it 
turned  out,  I  came  to  a  raft  just  in  the  creek.  It  had 
broken  loose,  I  suppose,  from  a  mill  above  and  had 
lodged  there.  By  wading  in,  waist  deep,  I  climbed  on 
it,  but  found  I  was  still  some  distance  from  the  bank 
on  the  other  side.  I  had  not  looked  around  since  I 
left  the  Yankee,  so  standing  on  the  raft,  I  eased  myself 
around  but  saw  no  one.  When  I  measured  the  water 
on  the  other  side  I  found  it  too  deep  for  me  to  wade 
and  I  couldn't  swim  a  lick.  I  reached  around  in  the 
water,  got  hold  of  a  loose,  sassafras  pole,  floated  it 
around,  stuck  it  in  the  bank  on  the  other  side,  and  un- 
dertook to  work  it  partially  under  water.  Of 
course  it  wabbled ;  I  went  down  head  and  ears.  Com- 
ing up,  fortunately,  I  grasped  my  bundle  in  one  hand 
and  my  cap  in  the  other,  and  found  myself  chin  deep 
in  the  water.  I  waded  out  on  the  other  side,  which 
seemed  to  be  "the  bank  of  sweet  deliverance."  I 
had  been  told  that  I  would  be  on  the  side  of  the  Con- 
federates when  I  got  there.  I  walked  briskly  up  to 
the  top  of  the  hill,  looked  around  to  see  if  there 
were  any  signs  of  campfires  anywhere,  indicating  the 
presence  of  a  Yankee  force.  I  supposed  that  the 
man  I  saw  in  the  bottom  was  on  picket.  Seeing  no 
signs  of  camp,  I  shot  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  I  could 
run.  An  old  man  seeing  me  shouted:  "Hello,  there." 
I  rephed:  "Hello,  yourself."  He  said:  "Stop  and 
give  me  the  news."  I  said :  "I  have  no  news."  He 
yelled  again :  "Have  you  seed  any  soldiers."  I  re- 
plied :  "Yes,  I  saw  one  back  there  in  the  river  bot- 
tom." He  said:  "Yes,  that's  Ike  Reader,  I  hered  he 
wus  home  'tother  day ;  but  stop  and  give  me  some 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  55 

news."  I  said:  "No,  I  haven't  time,"  and  on  I  rushed. 
I  won't  say  I  went  the  remaining  five  miles  in  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  but  I  went  it  in  a  very  short  time. 
The  idea  of  being  caught  almost  within  sight  of  the 
rebel  lines  possessed  me  and  it  put  wings  on  my  feet. 
When  I  reached  the  borders  of  the  village  just  about 
night  fall. 

There  was  a  man  standing,  as  if  he  were  waiting 
for  me,  and  when  I  told  him  my  story,  he 
said:  "Come  right  along  up  to  Capt.  Miller's  home, 
and  you  will  be  welcome."  I  found  that  the  Captain 
owned  a  steamboat  on  the  St.  Francis  river,  and  I 
guess  I  could  have  gotten  passage,  if  I  had  asked  for 
it,  but  I  never  thought  of  it.  I  was  given  dry  clothes, 
treated  most  tenderly,  and  the  next  morning  at  break- 
fast was  told  that  the  rebel  scouts  were  in  town. 

That  was  the  best  news  I  had  ever  heard.  The  Cap- 
tain accompanied  me  to  the  front  door  and  said :  "You 
can  go  out  of  the  front  gate  there,  or  you  can  take] 
this  path  and  go  through  the  grove.  I  looked  down 
the  path  and  saw  the  scouts  passing  the  gap,  and  just 
as  I  got  to  the  gap  all  of  them  had  passed  except  one. 
I  said  to  him :  'T  saw  a  Yankee  in  the  river  bottom 
yesterday."  He  said:  "Do  you  know  who  he  was?" 
I  said :  "No,  but  I  might  know  the  name,  if  I  heard 
it."  He  said:  "Was  it  Ike  Reader?"  I  said:  "Yes, 
that  was  the  name  I  heard  a  man  call."  So  he  put 
spurs  to  his  horse  and  went  to  the  head  of  the  column 
shouting  as  he  went :  "Old  Ike  Reader  is  at  home." 
I  judge  they  had  heard  that  he  was  home  on  furlough 
and  were  going  after  him. 

Twenty-four  miles  wasn't  much  of  a  walk,  so  I 
sauntered  along  through  the  day  and  just  at  dark  came 
up  to  the  pickets.  They  were  raw  recruits,  whom  I 
suppose  had  never  known  duty.  They  had  stacked 
their  guns  and  built  a  fire  and  were  out  in  the  woods 
gathering  wood  to  burn  through  the  night.     I  came 


56  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

up  between  them  and  their  guns.  They  were  fright- 
ened nearly  to  death.  I  could  have  captured  them 
without  any  difficulty.  I  told  them  they  were  the  fel- 
lows I  was  hunting  for  and  that  I  wanted  to  surren- 
der. Three  of  them  took  me  back  about  a  mile  and 
let  me  go  to  bed,  while  they  sat  up  and  watched  me 
all  night. 

Next  morning  they  carried  me  back  several  miles 
to  the  company  of  Capt.  Hunter.  I  found  him  to  be  an 
old  veteran  of  Mexican  war.  He  had  recruited  a 
company  and  was  up  there  in  Stoddard  County  drill- 
ing them  and  enlisting  other  men  before  going  South. 
When  I  told  him  my  story,  he  said :  "I  will  release 
you  on  parole  of  honor,  that  you  will  not  leave  the 
camp.  You  will  be  safer  with  us  than  traveling  alone. 
In  a  little  while  we  will  go  down  the  river  to  Helena, 
Ark.  That  will  be  right  on  your  road.  I  will  take 
you  in  my  mess  and  you  will  be  treated  right."  Such 
kindness  on  the  part  of  a  perfect  stranger,  under  the 
circumstances,  was  unusual  and  greatly  encouraging  to 
me.  The  next  afternoon  the  scouts  came  along  with 
their  man.  They  had  found  him  at  home.  I  saw  their 
Captain  and  ours  talking  very  animatedly  for  prob- 
ably thirty  minutes  and  as  he  rode  oft,  he  said:  "He 
is  mine  by  rights,  and  I  am  going  to  have  him."  When 
he  was  gone,  the  Captain  took  me  into  his  tent  and 
asked  me  if  I  had  met  those  scouts.  I  related  to  him 
the  circumstances  of  my  going  through  the  grove  at 
Bloomfield.  rather  than  through  the  front  gate,  which 
would  have  caused  me  to  meet  the  head  of  the  column. 
I  did  it  only  from  convenience,  not  from  any  fears 
that  I  had.  He  replied:  "You  certainly  were  fortu- 
nate in  going  through  that  grove.  The  Captain  of 
that  Company  is  nothing  more  than  a  marauder,  al- 
though he  wears  the  Confederate  uniform.  It  is  his 
custom,  when  he  meets  a  civilian  anywhere,  to  kill 
him,  but  he  will  take  a  Federal   soldier  prisoner.     I 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  57 

will  not  ask  you  to  enlist  with  us,  but  you  be  just  as 
one  of  our  soldiers.  Have  you  a  gun  ready  at  hand 
with  ammunition,  and  whenever  you  see  those  scouts, 
don't  expose  yourself.  We  are  going  to  protect  you." 
That  the  Captain  was  not  mistaken  in  the  man  I  soon 
discovered.  We  saw  a  suttler  pass  our  camp  one  day, 
and  just  a  little  later  saw  this  Captain  with  his 
scouts  going  in  the  same  direction.  It  was  not  a 
great  while  before  we  heard  pistol  shots  and  present- 
ly they  came  back  and  our  men  learned  from  them 
that  the  Captain  had  taken  the  suttler  out  into  the 
woods,  and  shot  him,  leaving  his  wagon  standing  in 
the  road.  He  was  a  harmless  fellow  who  was  gath- 
ering up  chickens  and  eggs  and  butter,  and  selling 
them  wherever  he  could,  sometimes  to  the  Federals 
and  sometimes  to  the  Confederates. 

You  may  be  sure  I  was  on  the  lookout. 

The  number  of  Yankees  the  scouts  had  as  prisoners, 
increased  to  probably  twenty-five.  When  the  com- 
panies assembled  to  start  South  under  General  Thomp- 
son, sometimes  these  scouts  were  ahead  and  soine- 
times  in  the  rear.  They  passed  and  repassed  us.  Word 
went  down  the  line  whenever  they  were  approaching, 
"Cramp,  look-out,"  and  I  was  always  ready.  The  old 
Yankee  soon  found  out  that  I  was  the  man  who  had 
told  on  him  and  learned  my  name  and  he  would  shout 
when  he  came  in  sight  of  me,  "Hello  Crump." 

It  was  several  weeks  before  we  reached  Helena, 
Ark.  There  I  ate  breakfast  with  the  boys,  the  morn- 
ing before  they  went  up  the  river.  I  could  have  se- 
cured rations  if  I  had  thought  of  it.  I  learned  after- 
wards, a  soldier  was  satisfied  so  long  as  his  stomach 
was  full.  I  went  to  see  General  Thompson,  however, 
and  got  from  him  a  paper,  stating  that  I  had  come 
to  them  up  in  Missouri,  that  I  was  on  my  way  to  my 
friends  in  Mississippi,  and  commending  me  to  people 
wherever  I  went.     I  could  have  gotten  transportation 


58  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

from  him  if  I  had  thought  of  it,  but  never  dreamed 
that  I  could  be  hungry  again  or  ever  have  need  to  ride 
any  more.  I  remained  all  that  day  and  night,  sleep- 
ing in  swarms  of  mosquitoes  on  the  wharf  boat,  and 
the  next  day,  without  anything  to  eat — I  did  not  have 
the  courage  to  beg.  That  was  the  only  quality  of  the 
tramp  that  I  had  not  learned;  but  I  learned  the  art 
later. 

About  2  o'clock  the  2nd  day  I  went  to  the  hotel  in- 
tending to  ask  for  dinner.  While  I  was  sitting  there, 
trying  to  work  up  courage  enough  to  approach  the 
clerk,  I  heard  a  boat  coming  down  and  hastened  away 
and  boarded  the  steamer,  H.  D.  Mears.  As  she  was  pull- 
ing off,  I  approached  the  Captain  and  showed  him  my 
paper  from  General  Thompson. 

He  made  the  atmosphere  blue  with  profanity.  He 
said  it  was  simply  absurd ;  that  I  had  forged  the  paper ; 
that  General  Thompson  would  not  have  given  me 
that  paper  without  giving  me  transportation  too,  he 
almost  made  me  believe  he  was  right;  it  did  seem  ab- 
surd. Then  I  asked  him  to  credit  me  with  my  trans- 
portation to  Vicksburg,  to  give  me  the  address  of  some 
one  to  whom  I  might  send  the  money.  He  replied,  *T 
would  not  credit  my  grand-mammy." 

The  river  was  high  and  boats  could  not  approach 
land.  Seeing  a  skiff  coming  over  from  the  Arkansas 
side,  from  where  a  landing  was  supposed  to  be,  think 
ing  that  he  was  going  to  put  me  off,  I  approached  him 
and  asked  that  he  put  me  off  on  the  Mississippi  side, 
as  I  was  afoot.  His  reply  was,  "I  am  not  going  to  put 
you  off;  you  can  ride  to if  you  want  to." 

Then  he  added:  *'How  are  you  going  to  get 
any  grub?"  I  was  too  independent  to  let  him 
know  that  I  needed  some  just  at  that  time. 
Being  exposed  to  the  weather  and  drinking 
Mississippi  water  and  doing  without  food  brought  on 
fever,  which  I  had  all  the  night.    The  next  morning  I 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  59 

was  in  a  desperate  condition.  The  desire  for  food 
had  given  place  to  a  feeHng,  that  I'd  as  soon  die  as  not. 
Late  in  the  afternoon,  I  began  to  feel  a  delirium  steal- 
ing over  me.  It  seemed  all  like  a  dream  to  me ;  could 
not  tell  where  I  was.  I  had  sense  enough  left  to  know 
that  the  kitchen  was  the  place  to  find  relief,  so  I  found 
my  way  to  the  door,  and  stood  there  looking  into  the 
face  of  the  old  negro  cook,  a  perfect  giant  in  appear- 
ance. I  said:  "Uncle,  I  am  on  this  boat  without  a  cent 
of  money,  and  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  for  three 
days  ;  I  am  sick  and  about  to  die."  He  looked  me  all 
over  from  head  to  foot,  then  put  a  stool  up  to  the 
table  and  said  in  a  commanding  tone :  "Set  down 
there." 

I  wasn't  used  to  being  ordered  about  by  negroes  that 
way,  but  I  took  no  offense  on  that  occasion.  He  filled 
a  quart  cup  with  the  blacket  coffee  I  ever  saw,  put 
three  tablespoonsful  of  sugar  into  it,  stirred  it  and  sal 
it  before  me  and  said:  "Drink  that."  I  guess  he 
must  have  seen  cases  like  mine  before.  I  commenced 
to  sip  the  coffee,  for  it  was  too  hot  to  drink.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  cup  of  coffee  while  I  live.  The  very 
first  sip  seemed  to  go  to  the  ends  of  my  fingers  and 
toes ;  it  thrilled  me  through  and  through.  As  I  drank 
I  could  not  restrain  my  tears.  When  I  was  through, 
in  about  half  an  hour,  I  was  in  a  profuse  perspiration. 
I  looked  at  the  three  large  pieces  of  steak,  as  big  as 
my  hand  and  four  hot  rolls,  and  said:  "Uncle,  if  I 
should  eat  that  meat,  I  am  sure  I  would  die  in  half 
an  hour.  If  you  have  no  objections  I  will  put  it  in  my 
overcoat  pocket  and  eat  it  at  my  leisure."  He  said: 
"That  is  just  the  thing  for  you  to  do."  Thanking  him, 
I  departed,  and  commenced  reaching  in  my  pocket, 
pulling  off  pieces  of  steak,  chewing  it  and  swallowing 
the  juice.  I  "chawed"  all  night,  in  my  waking  mo- 
ments. When  I  went  to  sleep,  I  was  chewing  that 
meat. 


60  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

At  sun  rise  the  next  morning  I  found  myself  at 
Vicksburg,  with  no  fever,  and  as  hungry  as  a  wolf. 
I  went  out  like  Pat,  "in  quest  of  a  breakfast,  for  me 
appetite."  I  was  determined  never  to  speak  to  an- 
other man.  I  was  like  that  fellow  who  said;  "the 
more  he  knew  about  men,  the  better  he  liked  dogs."  So 
many  of  them  did  not  believe  my  story  and  took  it  out 
in  cursing,  that  I  was  thoroughly  disgusted  with  them. 
Seeing  the  sign  :  "]\Irs.  Roebecker,  Private  Boarding," 
I  took  a  seat  in  an  old  store  nearby  and  watched  the 
door  until  all  the  boarders  came  out.  How  like  a 
tramp!  I  approached  the  door  and  was  received  gra- 
ciously by  the  kind  old  lady,  who  gave  me  a  good 
breakfast.  When  she  asked  me  how  I  w^as  going  to 
get  home,  I  replied,  "I  am  going  to  walk."  She  pro- 
tested, "No,  don't  do  anything  of  the  kind.    Go  up  and 

see  Mr.  ,  the   superintendent  of  the 

railroad.  He  is  a  kind,  nice  gentleman,  and  I  am  sure 
he  will  help  you  on  your  way."  I  plucked  up  cour- 
age enough  to  speak  to  the  Superintendent,  and  found 
him  just  as  the  lady  said. 

A  perfect  gentleman,  who  believed  me.  He  said: 
"Of  course,  my  son,  I  wnll  give  you  a  ticket, 
sign  this  due  bill,  and  we  will  send  it  over  to  our  agent, 
Dr.  Watts  at  Newton  Station,  and  your  people  can 
pay  it  when  you  get  home."  I  shall  never  forget  his 
kindly  expression,  and  the  effect  it  had  on  me.  My 
tears  are  not  usually  very  shallow,  but  kindness  al- 
ways humbles  me  and  brings  tears.  I  got  aboard 
the  train  and,  in  a  little  while  fell  asleep.  I  slept  all 
the  afternoon.  Don't  remember  passing  Brandon  or 
Jackson  or  any  place. 

xA.bout  ten  o'clock  at  night  some  soldiers  came  in 
the  crowded  train.  One  took  a  seat  in  the  aisle  on 
his  knap-sack  right  by  me.  I  said,  "How  far  is  to 
New^ton?"     He   said,   "Ten  miles."     After  a  while   I 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  61 

heard  the  brakeman  call  out  "Chunky  Station."  I  said : 
"How  far  is  it  from  Newton  now?"  He  said: 
"Why,  fellow  it  is  20  miles,  you  have  passed  Newton." 

By  the  time  I  got  myself  together,  the  train  was  un- 
der way  again,  so  I  remained  seated  until  I  got  to 
Meridian.  I  remembered  that  Meridian  was  just 
above  Enterprise,  and  there  I  knew  one  man.  Seeing 
a  train  on  the  M.  «&;  O.  just  ready  to  start  for  Mobile, 
I  made  a  rush  and  got  aboard,  taking  my  seat 
among  a  lot  of  soldiers.  Presently  the  conductor  came 
in  with  his  lantern,  calling,  "tickets,"  and 

My  troubles  began  again.  I  showed  him  my  pa- 
per from  General  Thompson,  and  said  to  him : 
"You  know  Mr.  Edmondson,  who  keeps  the  hotel 
at  Enterprise,  I  hired  a  horse  and  buggy  from 
him  two  years  ago  to  go  out  to  Garlandsville.  I  am 
sure  I  can  get  the  money  and  leave  it  anywhere  you 
say,  if  you  will  let  me  pass  on."  He  was  another  man 
that  did  not  attend  prayer  meeting.  He  said,  "No,  sir, 
Edmondson  is  dead,  you  are  lying  anyhow,  you  get  off 
at  the  wood  station."  There  was  a  Sergeant  on 
board,  in  charge  of  some  soldiers,  who  took  an  inter- 
est in  me.  He  said:  "Captain,  I  have  more  transpor- 
tation than  I  have  men ;  let  this  man  go  on  my  trans- 
portation." He  said:  "No  sir,  he  has  got  to  get  off.  He 
is  spinning  a  yarn.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  man  com- 
ing back  from  California  without  money."  So  I  got 
off,  and  when  the  train  started,  I  stepped  up  on  the 
back  platform.  It  was  only  a  little  while  before  we 
reached  Enterprise.  I  saw  the  conductor  standing  on 
the  platform,  with  his  lantern,  and  I  walked  boldly 
by  him.  He  easily  detected  me,  as  I  had  on  a  fur  cap, 
very  uncommon  in  the  South,  He  said:  "Are  you  ready 
to  pay  me,  sir?"  I  replied:  "No."  He  said:  "If  you 
are  a  gentleman,  you  will  do  as  you  said  you  would  do. 
Leave  that  money  here  with  Mr.  Jackson,  who  keeps 
the  eating  house."     I  said:  "I  am  not    a    gentleman 


62  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

now  since  you  made  me  steal  a  ride,  gentlemen  don't 
do  that  way." 

Then  he  commenced  cursing.  I  threw  myself 
back  with  my  thumbs  under  my  arms  and  said: 
"Now,  blaze  away  and  when  you  think  you  have 
cursed  out  the  value  of  your  ticket,  let  me  know 
and  I  will  pass  on."  That  was  about  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Presently  the  engineer  rang  his  bell, 
the  Captain  jumped  on,  shaking  his  fist  at  me  as 
the  train  pulled  out.  I  responded  by  shaking  both 
my  fists  at  him.  Of  course  I  was  very  mad  while  he 
was  cursing,  but  I  was  in  no  condition  to  fight. 

I  went  to  the  hotel  and 

Registered  my  name  like  a  gentleman:  "W.  B. 
Crump  ton,  San  Francisco,  California."  When  I 
awoke  the  next  morning,  and  looked  i  nto  a 
glass,  for  the  first  time  in  six  weeks,  I  was  like  Pat, 
when  he  said:  "Pat,  is  this  you,  or  is  it  somebody 
else?"  I  had  been  over  the  camp-fires  and  my  face 
was  smoked  and  greasy,  and  I  looked  more  like  a 
negro  than  a  white  man.  By  diligent  use  of  soap  and 
water,  I  got  myself  clean  down  to  my  collar.  I  had 
an  old  woolen  comforter,  that  I  had  worn  around  my 
neck.  I  turned  it  wrong  side  out,  pinned  it  close 
around  my  throat,  spread  it  over  the  front 
of  my  dirty  shirt,  buttoned  my  coat  and,  imagine 
I  made  a  right  decent  appearance.  I  took  my  seat  at 
the  table,  crowded  with  people.  I  have  no  recollec- 
tion when  anybody  got  up. 

I  came  to  myself  when  I  asked  for  another  biscuit.  I 
looked  at  the  negroes,  whose  eyes  were  almost  popping 
out,  and  I  realized  that  I  was  the  only  one  at  the  table, 
I  looked  at  the  astonished  lady  at  the  end  of  the 
room  and  stammered  out:  "Is  this  Mrs.  Edmondson? 
Excuse  me  please,  I  am  nearly  starved."  She  insisted 
on  my  eating  more,  but  I  didn't  have  the  face  to  do  it. 
I  said:     "Mrs.  Edmondson,  do  you  remember  a  boy 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  63 

coming  here  two  years  ago  and  hiring  a  horse  and 
buggy  to  go  out  to  Garlandsville?  She  said  "Yes,  I 
remember  you  well."  I  told  her  my  story,  and  asked 
her  to  credit  me  until  my  people  could  send  her  the 
money,  to  which  she  readily  consented. 

I  journeyed  on  for  twenty-four  miles  and  late 
that  after  noon  came  to  my  brother-in-law's  home. 
They  were  all  looking  for  me.  I  had  separated  at  Pan- 
ama with  a  man  by  the  name  of  Simpson,  who  had 
been  a  commission  merchant  in  Mobile  and  I  had  given 
him  a  letter.  He  went  across  to  Aspenwall,  thence  to 
Havana,  and  ran  the  blockade  into  Mobile.  I  had  dis- 
cussed with  my  brother,  doing  the  same,  but  he  ad- 
vised very  much  against  it. 

I  started  from  Beloit  the  6th  of  March  and  reach- 
ed home  on  the  23rd  of  April,  traveling  probably  a 
thousand  or  twelve  hundred  miles,  much  of  it  on  foot. 
As  I  spun  my  yarn  that  night  around  the  fire-side,  my 
sister  said,  "Brother,  why  didn't  you  ask  Mrs.  Ed- 
mondson  to  send  you  out  in  a  buggy?"  I  said,  "Bless 
my  life,  I  never  thought  of  it  until  you  mentioned 
it."  I  had  gotten  so  used  to  traveling  afoot,  it  made 
no  difference. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  found  a  recruiting  officer, 
Lieutenant  John  Mcintosh,  and  gave  him  my 
name.  I  had  a  mind  to  join  an  Alabama  reg- 
iment in  the  Virginia  army,  but  my  people  in- 
sisted on  my  enlisting  in  a  Mississippi  Regi- 
ment, so  that  they  might  more  easily  hear  from  me. 
The  Lieutenant  promised  me  a  thirty  days'  furlough 
to  visit  my  Alabama  kin,  as  soon  as  I  enlisted  at 
Columbus.  Some  day  when  the  birds  are  singing  and 
my  children's  children  are  behaving  nicely,  I  may 
take  the  time  to  write  out  another  story  about.  "What 
the  Boy  Saw  After  He  Got  Through  the  Lines  to  the 
Confederacy,"  you  may  depend  upon  it,  he  saw  sights. 


Part  Three 
PERIOD  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR 

CHAPTER  I. 

On  my  return  from  California,  after  telling  my  peo- 
ple about  my  ups  and  downs  in  getting  through  the 
Lines,  I  announced  it  as  my  purpose,  some  day,  when 
I  got  old,  with  little  else  to  do  and  feeling  good  some 
fine  morning,  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  when  the  birds 
were  singing,  the  flowers  blooming  and  my  children's 
children  were  behaving  nicely,  to  begin  the  story  of 

"What  the  Boy  Saw  After  He  Got  Through 
the  Lines  to  the  Confederacy."  On  December 
20,  1917,  when  the  flowers  are  not  blooming 
and  the  birds  are  not  singing  and  my  children's 
children  are  not  near  me,  I  begin  the  promised  task. 

In  the  home  of  John  D.  Hardy,  near  Garlandsville, 
I  found  my  sister  Janie  and  my  old  Father.  They 
were  all  very  proud  of  the  baby  boy  and  expected 
great  things  of  him.  I  was  just  past  twenty  and  as 
eager  to  get  into  the  fray  as  ever  a  boy  was  to  get 
off  on  a  fishing  trip. 

I  remained  only  two  weeks  with  my  kin.  My 
old  father  took  me  in  his  buggy  to  the  railroad  at  New- 
ton. That  nine  miles  ride  he  improved  to  give  some 
wholesome  advice  to  his  boy.  Boys  have  a  hateful 
way  of  listening,  that  leaves  the  adviser  wholly  in  the 
dark  as  to  what  impression,  if  any,  has  been  made. 
But  my  father's  advice  was  not  lost  on  me,  though  I 
was  as  dumb  as  an  oyster  while  he  talked.  The  first 
company  that  went  from  Jasper  County  was  named : 
"The  Jasper  Rifles."  They  were  captured  at  Fort 
Donelson.  (I  saw  them  in  Camp  Douglas  and  spent 
a  day  with  them.)     The  Company  I  joined,  as  if  there 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  65 

was  blood  in  their  eyes  over  the  capture  of  their  fel- 
low countians,  took  the  name  of:  "The  Jasper  Aven- 
gers." But  all  the  high  sounding  names  were  swept 
away  as  soon  as  we  went  into  a  Regiment.  We  be- 
came :  "Company  H"  of  the  37th  Mississippi  Infantry." 

Frank  Loper  was  our  Captain,  Pierce  English,  John 
Mcintosh  and  William  Hardy  were  the  Lieutenants. 
MrLane,  a  Presbyterian  preacher,  was  our  Colonel  and 
Holland  our  Lieutenant  Colonel.  The  Colonel  was 
soon  killed  and  Holland  succeeded  him. 

I  suppose  the  first  Regiments  enlisted,  were  made  up 
almost  entirely  of  young  men,  not  so  with  those  who 
went  out  later.  Probably  two-thirds  of  my  Regiment 
were  settled  men,  most  of  them  married,  some  of  them 
forty  or  fifty  years  of  age.  Officers  and  men  fra- 
ternized, while  off  duty,  in  the  most  familiar  way.  I 
was  in  a  mess  with  three  lieutenants,  several  ser- 
geants and  seven  privates.  On  May  9th,  1862, 
I  reached  Columbus^  Miss.,  the  camp  of  instruction. 
Getting  off  the  train  early  in  the  morning,  marching 
through  the  town,  I  was  startled  to  hear  from  the 
third  story  window  of  a  brick  building:  "Hello  Crump." 
It  proved  to  be  the  voice  of  old  Ike  Reeder,  the  Fed- 
eral prisoner  I  had  seen  in  Caster  River  bottom  in 
Missouri  a  few  weeks  before,  of  whom  I  have  spoken. 
The  first  military  service  I  rendered  was  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  hall,  guarding  old  Ike  and  a  lot  of  pris- 
oners. 

An  oath  must  be  taken  to  become  a  soldier.  The 
boys  said,  the  one  I  signed  required  that  I  fight  for 
the  Confederacy  "99  years  or  the  war."  I  didn't  read 
it,  but  a  boy  who  had  come  as  far  as  I  had  and  suffered 
as  much,  would  have  signed  anything  to  get  in  the 
fight. 

Lieutenant  Mcintosh  had  promised  me  a  thirty 
days'  furlough,  as  soon  as  I  should  enlist,  to  go  to 
Alabama  and  visit  my  kin.     When  asked  if  I  wanted 


66  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

the  furlough,  I  repHed :  "No,  I  am  afraid  the  Regiment 
might  get  into  a  fight  while  I  am  gone,  or  the  war 
might  be  over."  Never  again  did  I  hear  a  furlough 
mentioned  for  me,  except  when  I  was  wounded. 

The  ink  had  hardly  dried  under  my  pen  before  they 
began  the  process  of  making  a  soldier  of  me. 
Half  a  dozen  of  us,  who  had  come  in  the  same  day, 
were  put  in  charge  of  a  small,  red-headed  fellow, 
younger  than  any  of  us,  a  private,  who  had  a  little 
training,  quite  enough  to  teach  us.  We  were  marched 
down  by  the  side  of  the  river  for  our  first  lesson. 

"The  Position  of  a  Soldier,"  was  the  first  thing  to 
learn.  As  I  remember  it  now,  it  was  about  this : 
"Head  erect,  eyes  front,  shoulders  thrown  back,  heels 
together  and  the  little  finger  on  the  seam  of  the  pants. 

The  next  was,  "Always  step  off.  on  the  right  foot." 

Next  we  were  to  be  initiated  into 

The  Mysteries  of:  "Marking  Time." 

Finally  the  command  came:  "Mark  Time!"  There 
we  stood  for  an  hour,  lifting  up  one  foot  and  putting 
down  the  other.  It  quickly  became  monotonous  to 
me  and  seemed  utterly  absurd.  I  had  thought  that 
the  thing  of  getting  into  the  war  was,  to  get  in  sight 
of  the  enemy,  as  soon  as  you  were  sure  you  had  enough 
men,  give  each  man  plenty  of  ammunition  and  let  him 
go  to  shooting. 

Thus,  "the  awkward  squad,"  as  they  called  us,  was 
broken  in.  Day  after  day,  week  in  and  week  out,  we 
drilled — sometimes  until  it  looked  like  we  would  die. 
I  was  not  long  in  learning  the  value  of  the  drill.  "Obey 
orders,"  is  probably  the  greatest  lesson  for  one  to 
learn.  The  command  may  come  from  a  mere  strip- 
ling and  he  red-headed,  he  is  in  command  and  must 
be  obeyed. 

When  Fort  Sumter  was  fired  on  in  Charleston  Har- 
bor, April  12th,  1861,  The  Civil  War  Was  On.  I  was 
more     than    a     year     late     getting     in.     The    Yan- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  67 

kees  had  made  great  progress  in  opening  and  taking 
possession  of  the  Mississippi  valley. 

Fort  Henry  on  the  Tennessee  and  Fort  Donaldson  on 
the  Cumberland,  had  been  taken,  Nashville  was  in 
their  hands,  so  was  Island  No.  10  in  the  Mississippi,  the 
battle  of  Shiloh  had  been  fought  and  won,  one  day  by 
the  Confederates  and  lost  on  the  next  day.  At  the 
other  end  of  the  Mississippi,  New  Orleans  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  His  object,  now  clearly 
seen,  to  divide  the  Confederacy  by  taking  possession 
of  the  great  river,  had  been  practically  accomplished. 

We  were  two  months  in  camp  of  instruction  at  Co- 
lumbus, then  moved  to  Tupelo,  probably  in  Au- 
gust, where  for  want  of  sanitation,  disentery 
and  fever  turned  the  camp  into  a  hospital.  My  Regi- 
ment was  made  up  almost  entirely  of  men  from  the 
country,  who  had  never  had  the  contagious  diseases 
common  to  children.  It  was  pitiable  to  see  giant- 
framed  men  go  down  under  children's  diseases.  Many 
who  did  not  die,  became  invalids  for  life.  Fortunately 
for  me,  I'd  had  all  the  diseases  and  had  a  great  op- 
portunity to  make  a  reputation  for  myself  as  a  nurse. 

Later  in  the  war,  this  story  was  told:  A 
boy  in  a  Virginia  hospital  said  to  his  physician : 
"If  you  are  pretty  sure  I  am  not  going  to  recover,  I 
have  a  last  request  to  make.  "Well,  my  boy,"  the 
Doctor  replied,  "the  chances  are  pretty  slim,  if  you 
have  anything  of  importance  to  say,  you  had  better 
say  it  now." 

Whereupon  the  lad  replied:  "Please  have  me  sent 
back  to  Tupelo,  Miss.,  at  once." 

"Why,  you  are  not  a  Mississippian,  have  you  any 
near  relative  there?"  asked  the  Doctor.  To  which 
he  got  reply:  "No  sir,  I  have  no  kin,  don't  know  a 
soul  there,  but  I  feel  that  I  could  leave  the  world  from 
there  with  fewer  regrets  than  from  any  spot  on  the 
earth."    I  have  no  doubt  that  boy  recovered. 


68  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

That  story  was  gotten  off  about  every  camp  in  the 
South,  where  there  was  much  sickness. 

We  were  put  in  Herbert's  (pronounced  "Hebar's") 
Brigade.  He  had  been  Colonel  of  the  Third  Louisiana 
from  New  Orleans,  as  tough  a  lot  of  soldiers  as  ever 
put  on  uniform.  General  Sterling  Price  of  Missouri 
was  our  Commander.  The  boys  called  him  *'01d  Pap," 
because  of  his  familiar  way  with  the  common  soldier 
and  his  fatherly  care  of  them.  He  was  not  a  graduate 
of  West  Point  and  on  that  account  had  little  standing 
with  President  Jefferson  Davis ;  but  no  General  was 
more  loved  by  his  soldiers. 

The  first  battle  we  were  in  w^as  at  luka, 
Mississippi,  on  September  19,  1862.  All  the 
young  fellows  of  our  command  were  as  jolly  a 
set  of  boys  as  were  ever  in  camp  together.  But 
that  afternoon,  when  we  began  to  meet  the  wounded, 
all  blood-stained,  and  white-faced,  being  carried  to  the 
rear,  a  hush  fell  upon  us  and  the  stoutest  hearted 
were  serious. 

We  were  put  in  line  of  battle  in  a  wood.  We 
were  expected  to  meet  the  enemy  directly  in  front, 
but  the  battle  was  raging  on  our  left,  apparently  noth- 
ing doing  in  front.  Naturally,  the  tendency  was  to 
turn  in  the  direction  of  the  fighting  and  presently  we 
were  leaping  over  a  fence  into  a  field.  Instantly  we 
were  enfiladed  by  the  enemy  on  our  right,  the  same 
we  were  expected  to  attack.  An  order  came  at  once 
to  fall  back,  which  we  were  quick  to  do.  Once  across 
the  fence  into  the  woods,  the  stampede  was  not  halted 
under  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  At  dark  we  were  moved, 
deployed  as  skirmishers  right  among  the  dead  and 
wounded.  I  sat  on  the  end  of  a  litter  and  my  com- 
rade on  the  other,  between  us  lay  the  dead  body  of  a 
Federal  soldier.  In  twenty  feet  of  us  were  poor  fel- 
lows calling  their  companions  to  bring  them  water. 
The  night  was  pitch  dark,  we  could  hear  them  talking 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  69 

in  bated  breath  when  the  water  was  brought.  Before 
day  we  received  an  order  to  quietly  retire,  which  we 
did,  to  find  the  army  had  retreated  and  we  were  the 
rear  guard. 

Probably  this  was  the  greatest  disappointment  to 
Old  Pap.  He  had  gone  to  bed  expecting  to  renew 
the  fight  at  daylight,  but  all  his  Generals  were  against 
him  and  favored  a  retreat,  because  as  they  said,  Ros- 
encrantz  was  advancing  with  two  divisions  against  our 
13,000.  Another  heart-breaker  for  General  Price  was 
to  see  General  Little,  a  brave  Missourian,  shot  down 
the  day  before  by  a  bullet  through  his  brain. 

After  sunrise  the  cavalry  became  the  rear  guard 
and  my  regiment  was  told  to  double-quick  and  catch 
up  with  the  army,  now  miles  ahead.  We  passed  where 
they  were  fixing  an  ambuscade.  We  trotted  along 
four  miles  further,  when  passing  through  a  dense 
swamp,  some  fellow  remarked  that  it  would  be  a  fine 
place  for  the  Yankees  to  ambuscade  us.  Crossing  a 
puncheon  bridge,  just  behind  us  was  a  wagon  loaded 
with  long  planks  reaching  out  behind.  When 
the  bridge  was  reached,  the  planks  began  to  slap  to- 
gether, sounding  much  like  the  clatter  of  musketry. 
Just  then,  the  cannon,  far  in  our  rear,  began  to  fire. 
Some  one  shouted,  "ambuscade."  I  thought  it  was 
right  there.  I  leaped  over  a  fence  and  split  the  broom 
sedge  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before  I  could  stop  my- 
self. When  I  did  stop,  I  heard  behind  me  the  wagons 
crossing  that  bridge  and  fifty  yards  in  my  front  the 
army  was  passing  quietly  along.  The  road  had  made 
a  circuit  around  the  field  and  my  panic  had  saved  me 
about  a  mile.  I  had  played  the  coward  and  was  aw- 
fully afraid  some  of  the  boys  had  seen  me  jump  the 
fence.  I  picked  myself  up,  walked  leisurely  down  by 
the  side  of  the  road,  leaned  my  gun  against  a  tree  and 
waited  for  my  regiment  to  come  up.    The  Lieutenant 


70  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Colonel  was  the  first  to  call  out:  "Hey  Crump,  what 
are  you  doing  here?"  I  replied, 

"I  made  a  cut  off."  When  my  company  came 
up,  it  looked  like  every  mouth  expressed  the  same 
word  when  they  yelled,  ''How  did  you  get  ahead? 
I  calmly  replied,  "I  made  a  cut  off.'  Never,  until 
the  war  was  nearly  over,  did  I  dare  tell  about  my 
stampede.  If  they  had  found  it  out  before,  there 
would  have  been  no  living  with  them. 

A  little  later,  our  forces  were  in  a  fight  at  Corinth 
in  which  they  were  worsted.  All  the  Mississippi  river 
was  soon  in  hands  of  the  enemy,  except  Port  Hudson 
and  Vicksburg.  The  latter  was  called  the  Gibraltar 
of  the  West.  As  winter  came  on,  we  were  marching 
towards  Vicksburg.  On  the  day  before  Christmas,  a 
very  cold  afternoon,  we  were  on  flat  cars.  My  com- 
pany was  near  the  middle  of  the  train.  As  the  train 
moved  off  at  a  station,  after  watering,  the  rope  of  the 
tank  was  left  danghng  in  the  air.  When  my  com- 
pany passed  under  it,  I  reached  up  and  gave  it  a  jerk. 
A  stream  of  water  as  big  as  my  leg  burst  out,  drench- 
ing the  soldiers.  To  make  matters  worse,  the  rope 
caught  and  the  water  continued  to  f^ow  until  every 
car  had  passed. 

I  was  seen  to  pull  the  rope ;  if  the  train  had  stopped 
soon,  I  would  have  been  mobbed ;  but  fortunately  it 
was  near  night  and  not  far  to  our  destination.  When 
a  rush  was  made  by  the  wet  soldiers  after  me,  I  was 
off  and  gone  a  mile  into  the  woods.  Fires  were  soon 
built,  the  boys  got  themselves  dry,  then  they  were 
laughing  at  the  joke.  I  made  myself  scarce  about 
the  camp  for  a  week  until  the  incident  was  forgotten. 

At  Snyder's  Bluff  on  the  Yazoo  river  we 
built  us  log  cabins  and  wintered.  In  many  of 
the  messes  we  had  one  or  more  negro  ser- 
vants. Dan  Evans,  one  of  my  mess-mates,  had  a  ser- 
vant named  Pete.     I  never  saw  a  more  faithful  ser- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  71 

vant,  or  a  truer  Christian.  I  developed  a  fondness  for 
cooking,  so  that  job  was  turned  over  to  Pete  and  me. 
Bringing  water  and  getting  up  fuel,  belonged  to  the 
others.  The  cook  was  to  draw  the  rations  and  do  the 
cooking.    That  job  kept  me  out  of  many  a  hard  place. 

CHAPTER  2. 

Steamboats     from     the     Mississippi     River     from 

above  and  below  Vicksburg  had  been  packed 
away  in  the  Yazoo  River  to  keep  them  out  of  the 
hands  of  the  Yanks.  The  enemy,  in  the  time  of  very 
high  water,  undertook  to  cut  their  way  through  Deer 
Creek,  in  light  draft  gunboats,  into  the  upper  Yazoo. 
My  Regiment  was  sent  up  to  Greenwood  to  meet  them. 
We  had  negro  guides  who  knew  the  swamp.  We  were 
to  go  into  the  overflow  in  squads  of  four,  a  few  yards 
apart,  with  our  guns  and  cartridge  boxes  often  above 
our  heads.  Not  a  gun  was  to  be  fired,  not  a  word  to  be 
spoken.  We  floundered  on  for  hours  through  the 
dense  swamp,  water  sometimes  almost  to  our  armpits. 

From  a  little  island,  a  great  turkey  gobbler  flew 
away  to  the  top  of  a  pine,  three  hundred  yards  ofif. 
John  Knox  said,  **Wash,  I  am  going  to  shoot  that 
turkey  if  they  court  marshal  me  for  it."  He  took  de- 
liberate aim  and  the  gobbler  came  down  through  the 
boughs  of  the  trees  into  the  water.  In  a  little  while 
John  was  back  with  his  game.  He  was  put  under 
arrest  promptly.  A  little  further  along  we  found 
the  gunboats,  fearing  the  falling  water  would  leave 
them  stranded,  had  backed  out  towards  the  Missis- 
sippi. 

Returning  to  camp,  John  Knox  was  marcht- 
ed  up  to  the  Colonel's  tent  with  his  turkey  on 
his  shoulder  and  in  peremptory  tones,  the  col- 
onel said :  "John  Knox,  you  are  guilty  of  an  of- 
fense, the  penalty  for  which  would  have  been  death, 
\ 


72  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

if  done  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy.  Fortunately  for 
you,  no  enemy  was  found.  You  are  commanded  sir, 
to  cook  that  turkey,  with  plenty  of  stuffing,  mixed 
with  onions  and  black  pepper  and  bring  one  half  of 
it  to  this  tent  tomorrow  at  noon.  You  will  then  have 
sentence  passed  upon  you  as  the  gravity  of  your  of- 
fense deserves."  The  Colonel  did  not  crack  a  smile 
nor  did  John,  but  the  thousand  men  who  had  listened 
with  deepest  interest,  burst  into  the  most  uproarious 
yells  those  old  woods  ever  heard.  A  large  washpot, 
from  a  nearby  negro  quarter,  was  the  oven  in  which 
it  was  deliciously  cooked. 

We  remained  at  Snyder's  Bluff  until  the  18th  of 
May.  General  Grant,  after  capturing  Jackson  de- 
feated our  troops  in  a  great  battle  at  Baker's  Creek 
and  was  marching  on  Vicksburg  only  a  few  miles 
below  us.  On  the  day  named  we  marched  into  the 
city  to  be  very  soon  shut  in. 

The  siege  of  Vicksburg  for  six  weeks  was  a  mem- 
orable event  of  the  war. 

The  process  of  silencing  our  batteries  was  at  once 
begun.  The  plan  was  to  concentrate  on  one  of  ours, 
a  number  of  guns.  The  result  was,  in  a  little  while, 
every  cannon  we  had  was  out  of  action.  A  few  were 
pulled  off  to  be  knocked  down  later,  if  they  dared  fire 
a  shot. 

May  19th,  the  breastworks  were  stormed,  on 
the  left  of  my  Regiment's  position.  The  Confed- 
erates had  all  sorts  of  guns.  Some  had  long  range 
guns,  captured  from  the  enemy,  but  more  smooth  bore 
muskets  than  anything  else.  We  were  strung  out,  a 
man  every  five  feet,  in  the  miles  around  the  city.  Some 
of  us  had  four  or  five  guns  each,  all  loaded.  While 
the  battle  was  raging,  strange  to  say,  the  enemy  in 
our  front  were  entirely  silent.  This  enabled  us  to  en- 
filade their  ranks  on  our  left.  This  we  did  to  our 
heart's   delight    for    two   hours.     Towards    night    the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  7Z 

enemy  withdrew  to  their  lines.  We  could  see  their 
dead  covering  the  hill  sides.  The  weather  was  in- 
tensely hot.  By  the  25th  the  dead  bodies  became 
very  offensive. 

The  Yankees  sent  a  flag  of  truce  asking  for 
three  hours  to  gather  up  and  bury  their  dead. 
It  was  granted  and  we  had  a  gala  time  watch- 
ing the  litter-bearers.  Doubtless  they  had  carried 
away  hundreds  at  night,  but  there  were  very  many 
more  moved  that  day.  This  was  the  last  assault  at- 
tempted. If  they  had  known  how  thin  our  lines  were 
and  how  scarce  our  ammunition,  a  determined  attack, 
most  anywhere,  would  have  carried.  That  time  of  the 
truce  the  enemy  employed  by  their  engineers  in  making 
observations  which  enabled  them  to  begin  a  systematic 
zigzag  ditching  that  proved  our  undoing.  We  were 
ordered  not  to  shoot  unless  attacked,  as  ammunition 
was  scarce,  while  they  had  orders  to  keep  firing.  We 
found  out  afterwards,  every  sharp  shooter  was  re- 
quired to  fire  sixty  rounds  or  more  every  two  hours. 
Thus  our  heads  were  kept  down,  and  they  could  work 
unimpeded  night  and  day,  bringing  their  lines  closer 
to  ours.  Later,  we  saw  frames  like  well  curbs  go- 
ing up  in  the  air  at  high  points.  These  were  for  sharp 
shooters  to  pick  off  anyone  they'd  chance  to  see. 

They  zigzagged  up  to  a  point  not  far  from 
the  Jackson  Road  and  were  undermining  one  of 
our  forts.  From  my  Regiment's  position  we 
could  see  plainly  the  progress  of  the  work,  by  the 
dirt  they  threw  out.  A  company  of  us  were  sent  there 
to  relieve  those  on  duty  at  that  point.  We  knew  they 
hadn't  yet  gotten  under  us,  so  a  few  of  us,  who  had 
long  range  guns,  took  advantage  of  a  safe  position  be- 
hind the  fort,  elevated  our  sights  to  1500  yards  and 
watched  a  point,  far  to  our  left,  where  we  could  see 
them  going  out  after  water.  The  most  of  the  after- 
noon we  spent  squirrel  hunting,  as  we  called  it.    Don't 


74  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

know  if  we  hit  anybody,  but  we'd  see  them  run  and  of- 
ten see  the  dust  about  them  cut  up  by  our  bullets. 
One  night,  after  all  of  our  cannons  had  been  put  out 
of  commission,  we  heard  a  boom  in  our  rear. 

It  sounded  like  a  cannon  far  away.  Present- 
ly we  saw  the  fuse  of  a  mortar  shell,  far  up 
in  the  air;  "che-weet,  che-weet,  che-weet,"  it  seemed 
to  say.  Finally  it  dropped  into  the  enemy  lines.  There 
was  no  sleeping  for  us,  about  every  thirty  minutes  it 
was  repeated.  The  Confederates,  every  time  it  ex- 
ploded, shook  the  earth  with  their  yells.  All  through 
the  night  we  could  hear  the  rattle  of  the  wheels  of 
artillery  as  the  enemy  collected  guns  at  the  nearest 
point  to  where  they  supposed  the  mortar  was. 

Next  morning,  probably  one  hundred  cannon,  of  all 
calibres  were  turned  loose  in  the  direction  of  that 
mortar.  When  night  came  on,  the  mortar  spoke  again 
and  for  yet  another  night.  We  afterwards  heard,  the 
citizens  went  to  General  Pemberton  and  asked  him 
to  order  the  mortar  to  fire  no  more  and  it  ceased.  I 
do  not  know  if  this  were  true,  but  I  guess  it  was. 

Vicksburg  is  built  among  the  hills  and  there  are 
deep  gorges  where  mortars  like  that  would  be  hard 
to  find  by  the  enemy's  shells. 

CHAPTER  3. 

"Grape  Vine"  telegraph  is  the  soldier's  most  used 
Hne.  It  worked  beautifully  for  us  at  Vicksburg  and 
was  always  favorable.  One  day  we  heard,  Joe  John- 
son was  collecting  an  army  to  come  to  our  rescue. 
Later,  we  heard  the  plan  contemplated,  our  cutting  our 
way  through  to  meet  Johnson.  Sometimes  it  was, 
that  Lee  had  gained  great  victories  in  Virginia  and 
Grant  was  sending  from  our  front  to  their  relief.  The 
one  most  frequently  heard  was,  that  England  had 
recognized  the  Confederacy  and  would  soon  espouse 
our  cause. 


A   BOOK   OF   AlEMORIES.  75 

All  the  while,  rations  were  getting  short.  Pea 
bread,  one  third  meal,  was  found  very  good  when  eat- 
en warm,  but  ropy  if  taken  cold.  Breaking  it  when 
cold,  you  could  see  threads  like  spider  webs,  when 
put  in  the  mouth  it  grew  bigger  and  slicker  as  you 
chewed.  The  beef  issued,  "Old  Logan,"  the  boys  call- 
ed the  old  oxen,  was  poor  and  tough,  the  ones  that 
looked  like  they'd  die  first  were  butchered  first. 

Finally  beef  gave  out  and  the  mules  began  to  go 
the  way  of  Old  Logan. 

The  Yanks  had  dug  their  ditches  so  close  to  us,  we 
could  not  put  a  picket  in  front  of  our  breastworks ; 
the  sentry  could  only  crawl  on  top  at  night  and  lie 
flat  with  his  face  outward  and  watch  them,  thirty  or 
forty  feet  away.  One  clear  night,  one  of  our  boys 
heard  distinctly; 

"Johnny  Red,  Fm  going  to  shoot  right  where  you 
are  lying,"  he  tumbled  into  the  trench  instantly  as  the 
bullet  whizzed  over  the  spot  where  he  had  been  lying. 
There  was  no  relief  for  a  fellow.  It  was  an  all  night 
vigil. 

Just  before  day  on  June  28th,  I  came  off  duty, 
crawled  at  once  into  my  dug-out  under  the  breast- 
work. It  was  a  hole  in  the  clay  soil,  just  big  enough 
for  a  fellow  to  crawl  in  and  escape  the  sun.  My  feet 
and  legs,  up  to  my  knees  were  outside  on  the  bottom 
of  the  trench.  A  bullet  hit  near  enough  to  arouse  me. 
Later  on,  it  hit  the  hard  bottom  of  the  trench,  glanc- 
ing, it  buried  itself  in  my  heel.  Ben  Thompson,  a  big, 
strong  fellow  at  the  lower  end  of  the  company,  was 
called  to  carry  me  out.  As  he  was  crawling  up  the 
trench,  on  hands  and  knees,  a  bullet  went  through  him, 
killing  him  instantly.  Then  it  was  some  one  snatched 
a  white  blanket  down  and  there  was  not  another 
shot.  Poor  Ben  died  on  my  account.  There  was  a 
spot  back  of  our  breastworks,  where  the  boys  ran 
across  for  water. 


76  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

The    Yanks    went     squirrel    hunting     there,    as    I 

had  been  doing  a  few  days  before  for  them.  Bill 
Roberson,  a  stout  fellow,  who  loved  me,  took  me  on 
his  back  and  trotted  me  across  the  ridge.  I  was  feel- 
ing for  a  bullet  in  my  back  all  the  way,  but  I  do  not 
remember  if  they  fired,  maybe  it  was  an  off  time  with 
the  sharpshooter.  At  the  hospital,  a  doctor  asked  if 
I  wanted  an  anesthetic,  but  before  I  could  answer,  an 
old  Irish  surgeon  said,  "No,  this  ain't  no  baby,  you're 
dealing  with,  that's  nothing  but  a  splinter,  you  nig- 
ger hold  that  foot,"  and  almost  before  I  knew  it,  they 
had  cut  down  and  pulled  out  the  bullet.  Bullets  in 
those  days  were  of  lead,  weighing  an  ounce. 

Back  in  the  city  I  was  put  in  a  tent  with  a  poor  fel- 
low whose  leg  had  been  shattered.  It  was  in  the 
front  yard  of  a  great  old  colonial  residence  belonging 
to  the  Fords. 

The  first  mule  beef  I  saw  was  at  the  hospital. 
It  seems  that,  before  meat  rations  were  cut 
off  to  the  trenches,  they  put  aside  a  lot 
of  fat  bacon  for  the  hospitals.  They  would  bring  me 
on  a  tin  plate,  a  slice  of  fat  bacon,  a  chunk  of  mule 
beef  and  a  pone  of  corn  bread.  Being  short  on  appe- 
tite, I  loathed  the  fat  bacon  and  took  the  mule — a  lit- 
tle tough  and  the  grain  coarser  than  old  Logan,  but 
I  discovered  no  difference  in  the  taste. 

Curious  to  see  what  the  Yanks  said  in  their  histories 
about  Vicksburg,  I  discovered  one  historian  said:  We 
were  on  the  eve  of  mutiny  when  we  surrendered.  It 
has  been  a  long  time  since  the  surrender.  In  the  course 
of  the  years,  I  have  seen  and  conversed  with  hundreds 
of  the  boys  that  were  in  the  siege  and,  not  one  of  them 
ever  intimated  that  anywhere  along  the  line  was  there 
a  hint  of  mutiny. 

So  Mister  Yank,  I  believe  you  lied.  Another  yarn 
was  that  30,000  or  more  stands  of  arms  of  improved 
pattern,  manufactured  in  Europe,  were  captured.  That 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  77 

was  a  whopper — I  had  three  guns,  an  Enfield  Rifle,  a 
Mississippi  Rifle  and  a  smooth  bore  musket,  the  man 
next  to  me  had  two  muskets.  I  am  quite  sure  that 
was  about  the  armor  all  the  way  round.  If  we'd  had 
the  new  guns,  with  plenty  of  ammunition,  my,  what 
a  time  the  Yanks  would  have  had ! 

On  July  the  4th  the  surrender  came.  The  enemy 
could  have  marched  in  sooner,  but  he  preferred  to 
celebrate  the  4th  in  the  most  spectacular  way  pos- 
sible, this  he  did  in  truly  American  style.  We  learned 
later  that  they  had  barrels  of  gun  powder  under  every 
fort  and  if  we  had  not  surrendered,  they  would  have 
celebrated  in  a  very  different  way.  We  were  not  at 
all  cowed  over  the  result,  most  of  us  had  been  feel- 
ing, for  some  time,  that  there  was  no  hope  for  us. 

I  was  given  a  pair  of  crutches  and  began  walking 
a  little.  A  day  or  two  after,  I  got  me  down  on  the 
street.  While  leaning  against  a  brick  wall  resting,  an 
elegant  lady  stepped  out  of  a  carriage,  asked  my  name 
and  after  a  few  words,  handed  me 

A  Green  back  dollar  bill — the  first  I  had  ever  seen. 
She  was  a  Mrs.  Davis,  living  somewhere  back  of  the 
Yankee  lines  and  I  suppose  among  the  first  civilians 
to  come  into  the  city.  That  dollar,  my,  how  good  it 
looked  and  how  I  doled  it  out  until  it  was  all  gone ! 

CHAPTER  4. 

It  wasn't  long  before  preparations  began  to  be  made 
to  parole  the  prisoners.  Every  one  who  was  supposed 
able  to  walk  was  given  a  30  days  furlough  and  ordered 
to  report  at  Parole  camp  at  Enterprise,  Miss.  Those 
who  were  wounded,  were  put  on  great  river  steamers 
and  carried 

Down  the  river  to  New  Orleans.  One  nurse  was  pro- 
vided for  every  ten  men.  We  spread  our  blankets  all 
over  the  decks,  there  we  slept.    Reaching  New  Orleans 


78  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

on  a  Sunday  morning,  we  saw  across  the  Levee,  thous- 
ands of  Southern  women  waving  their  handkerchiefs. 
Yell !  I  guess  we  did,  until  our  throats  were  sore. 
That  infuriated  the  Yanks,  a  Regiment  of  whom,  Cav- 
alry from  away  out  on  the  plains  with  their  lassos, 
were  on  hand.  They  charged  in  among  the  women 
and  children  to  drive  them  back  to  the  walls.  The  two 
or  three  boat  loads  of  wounded,  began  hooting: 

"Oh,  you  brave  dogs!  Old  Beast  Butler's  gang!" 
"Bring  out  the  Beast!  Sure  he  has  been  training  you! 
Come  here  half  a  dozen  of  you  and  we'll  detail  a  man 
with  one  arm  to  whip  you."  These  were  among  the 
harmless  bullets  we  fired.  Orders  came  that  we  must 
hush,  but  there  was  no  hush  to  it.  Finally  the  enemy 
relaxed  and  the  women,  a  few  at  a  time,  began  to  come 
across  with  their  negro  servants,  bringing  baskets, 
filled  with  all  sorts  of  good  things.  After  awhile 
there  were  thousands  standing  talking  to  the  boys. 
A  few  were  permitted  to  come  on  the  boats  with  deli- 
cacies, including  wine,  cigars,  tobacco,  and  pipes, 
Down  at  the  gangway  on  the  lower  deck,  baskets  full 
of  everything  good  were  soon  emptied  into  the  sacks 
the  soldiers  had  gotten  hold  of.  Of  course  the  wound- 
ed could  get  nothing.  Their  nurses  did  what  they 
could. 

But  they  stood  little  show,  with  a  lot  of  hospital  rats, 
mostly  from  Gorgy,  who  had  played  sick  so  as  to  get 
the  trip  around,  rather  than  walk  through  the  country. 
I  sat  on  the  banister  of  the  upper  deck,  watching  the 
dirty  basket-robbers.  They  ate  like  starved  dogs,  ev- 
erything in  sight,  then  brought  old  oat  sacks  full  and 
piled  them  on  the  deck. 

All  day  that  Sunday,  things  were  happening  on  the 
Levee.  It  was  far  back  to  the  line  of  houses  and  the 
villainous  cavalry  were  patroling  up  and  down,  doing 
all  sorts  of  beastly  things.  Whenever  a  man,  even  a 
very  old  man,  would  attempt  to  cross  over    to    the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  79 

wharf,  they  would  pursue  him  and  lasso  him.  Elegant 
old  southern  gentlemen,  with  their  beaver  hats  on, 
would  be  knocked  down. 

Finally,  very  late  in  the  evening,  we  were  trans- 
ferred to  gulf  steamers.  As  the  boats  pulled  off  we 
cheered  and  the  women  waved  their  handkerchiefs, 
it  looked  like  a  sea  of  handkerchiefs.  The  last  we 
heard,  were  the  clatter  of  the  horse's  hoofs  on  the 
Levee  and  the  screams  of  the  women.  Our  cheers 
had  aroused  the  ire  of  the  Yanks  and  they  were  driv- 
ing the  women  away. 

"The  Battle  of  the  Handkerchiefs"  was  the  name  of 
a  poem  written  after  this. 

When  I  began  to  take  my  bearings  on  the  new  boat, 
I  found  I  was  in  the  midst  of  the  hospital  rats.  Their 
sacks  were  stacked  all  about  me.  When  they  fell 
asleep,  my  nurse  provided  a  sack  and  we  proceeded  to 
fill  her  up  from  neighboring  sacks. 

Late  in  the  night,  when  we  were  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Mississippi,  some  fellow  said,  "Is  there  anybody 
who's  been  on  the  big  waters?  I  hear  it  makes  a  body 
awful  sick,  I  wonder  what  a  feller  can  do."  One  spoke 
up,  "Yes,  I've  been  on  the  sea,  there  will  be  no  trouble 
if  you  fill  up.  It  is  almost  certain  death  to  a  fellow 
with  an  empty  stomach.  Eat  and  drink  everything  in 
sight,  until  you're  as  tight  as  a  drum."  At  that,  they 
aroused  themselves ;  already  full,  they  began  to  pile 
in  more.  I  fell  asleep  after  a  bit.  When  we  got  out- 
side and  began  to  feel  the  swell  of  the  gulf,  I  felt  the 
spray,  as  I  thought  from  the  wh,eel-house,  coming 
back  into  my  face,  when  lo !  I  looked  and  the  Gorgy 
gluttons  lined  the  top  of  the  rail  in 

Paying  tribute  to  Neptune.  Those  that  couldn't  get 
to  the  railing,  let  fly  where  they  were.  I  had  nobody 
to  laugh  with,  or  I'd  had  some  fun.  I  was  completely 
cut  off  from  my  crowd.  About  daylight  I  crept  out, 
found  my  nurse  and  sent  him  after  my  sack.     The 


80  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Lone  Jack  smoking  tobacco  and  the  beautiful  pipes, 
the  good  women  gave  us,  was  the  cause  of  my  becom- 
ing a  smoker,  which  I  kept  up  for  many  years. 

Probably  the  greatest  event  in  the  lives  of  the  hos- 
pital rats  was  that  trip  from  Vicksburg  out  of  the 
Mississippi,  into  Mobile  Bay  and  up  the  Alabama 
River  to  Montgomery. 

CHAPTER  5. 

I  easily  found  friends  in  Mobile. 

Not  many  days  elapsed  before  I  was  on  my  way  to 

Pleasant  Hill,  my  old  stamping  ground  before  I  left 
for  California,  three  years  before.  Being  a  soldier 
and  wounded,  I  was  handed  'round  on  a  silver  waiter. 
My  thirty  days'  furlough  ran  out  mighty  soon,  it  seem- 
ed to  me.  I  got  it  extended,  went  to  see  the  kin  in 
Mississippi  then,  entered -parole  camp  at  Enterprise. 
In  our  parole,  we  were  sworn  not  to  bear  arms  again 
until  we  were  notified  we  were  exchanged.  To  vio- 
late that  oath  meant  death  if  we  were  captured;  but 
it  was  permissible  to  drill  and  perform  guard  duty; 
there  would  have  been  no  holding  us  down,  doing  noth- 
ing. I  never  knew  why  we  were  sent  in  the  winter  to 
Pollard,  Alabama,  thence  to  Florida  Old  Town,  near 
Milton,  unless  there  was  a  doubt  about  our  having 
been  exchanged  and  there  was  little  likelihood  of  our 
being  captured  there.  We  relieved  a  lot  of  soldiers 
who  went  to  the  front  and 

For  a  few  months  we  had  as  fine  time  eating  fish, 
oysters  and  game  as  soldiers  ever  did  have. 

There  were  three  of  us,  mentioned  before,  who  gang- 
ed together:  Dan  Evans,  Russell  Mclnnis  and  myself. 
We  loved  music  and  nice  girls  and  when  we  heard  of 
a  girl  who  had  a  piano  we  would  soon  find  our  way 
to  her  house.    Soon  after  stopping  in  Florida 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  81 

We  heard  of  a  Miss  Jennie .  Her 

father  was  a  great  land  owner  and  had  a  large  herd 
of  cattle.  She  had  been  sent  away  and  graduated  at 
a  good  school.  Through  her  we  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  other  girls  at  Milton  five  or  six  miles  away.  On 
preaching  days  we'd  walk  by,  get  Miss  Jennie,  pick  up 
another  girl  or  two  en  route  and  spend  the  day  at 
Milton,  walking  back  in  the  afternoon.  Finally,  my 
company  was  moved  to  Milton  and  quartered  in  the 
hotel. 

Dan  Evans  and  I,  they  said,  were  very  much  alike 
— hard  to  tell  apart,  but  Dan  was  pious — while  I,  not 
the  worst  boy  in  the  world,  had  some  fun  as  I  went 
along.  Mclnnis  had  lived  in  New  Orleans  and  I  had 
traveled  much  and  we  knew  the  ways  of  the  world. 
He  and  I  made  it  up,  we'd  write  to  our  sisters  that  we 
were  going  to  marry  Miss  Jennie.  We  knew  we 
couldn't  rope  Dan  in,  but  we  made  him  promise  to  say 
nothing.  So  Mclnnis,  who  was  his  cousin,  wrote  Dan's 
sisters  that  their  brother  was  going  to  marry  Miss  Jen- 
nie, that  he  was  afraid  to  write  home  about  it,  but  he 
(Mclnnis)  knew  it  was  so  and  he  and  Wash  Crumpton 
were  to  be  his  waiters  at  the  wedding.  Mclnnis  wrote 
his  sister  the  same  story  about  himself,  and  I  wrote 
mine,  all  giving  the  same  girl's  name.  So  the  word  went 
out  over  two  or  three  counties  in  Mississippi.  "What  a 
pity  for  the  poor  foolish  boys  to  marry  and  in  just  a 
little  while  be  moved  away,"  was  the  remark  of  every- 
body. My  sisters  lived  a  few  miles  from  Dan's,  and 
Mclnnis'  sister  lived  in  another  county.  One 
Sunday  my  sister  went  on  horseback  to  old  Beth- 
el Church,  not  far  from  Dan's  home.  His  sisters  were 
out  and  naturally  they  began  talking  about  the  broth- 
ers and  the  approaching  marriages.  When  they  be- 
gan to  compare  notes,  they  found  it  was  to  the  same 
girl.  Then  the  fun  was  on.  When  news  got  back  to 
the  camp  we  were  hailed  as  promoters  of  the 


82  A   BOOK   OF  MEMORIES. 

Greatest  fake  ever  pulled  off  in  old  Mississippi.  We 
had  to  exonerate  Dan,  but  he  had  to  own  up  he  play- 
ed a  part.  The  fine  young  woman  never  did  hear  of 
the  joke. 

But  our  days  of  joy  were  over.  We'd  had  about 
two  months  of  pleasure,  nothing  to  do  but  play  sol- 
dier. We  wandered  over  the  pine  woods,  fished  and 
hunted  and  called  on  the  girls.  Those  vast  forests  are 
no  more  and  the  thin  sandy  land,  we  regarded  as  val- 
ueless, is  now  commanding  great  prices. 

We  were  inarched  to  Pollard,  put  aboard  trains  of 
flat  cars  and  started  for  Georgia.  It  was  slow  run- 
ning, I  do  not  know  how  long  we  were  in  going,  but 
at  last  we  debarked  at  Resaca,  Ga.  North  of  there,  at 
Dalton,  the  enemy  were  starting  the  great  drive  for 
the  sea.  In  a  couple  of  days  they  had  flanked  our 
army  out  of  Dalton  and 

Were  approaching  Resaca.  I  was  given  three  men 
and  sent  up  the  valley  to  an  old  tobacco  house  with  in- 
structions to  stay  there  until  ordered  away.  My 
Regiment  was  soon  engaged  south  of  us  in  a  battle. 
After  a  time  we  could  see  the  Yanks'  skirmishers  a 
mile  away  in  the  road  leading  our  way.  We  climbed 
on  top  of  the  house  so  we  could  see  better.  Presently 
bullets  began  to  whiz  past  us  and  we  came  to  earth, 
to  find  an  Alabama  Regiment,  which  had  never  seen 
service,  had  taken  position  behind  us  and  in  their  ex- 
citement they  were  firing  on  us.  Of  course,  I  took  it 
that  we  were  relieved  and  towards  night  marched  into 
camp.  Meantime  our  boys  had  been  in  a  stiff  engage- 
ment and  driven  back, 

Leaving  a  mess-mate  wounded  on  the  field.  Poor 
Duffie !  As  the  night  wore  on,  we  could  hear  him 
calling.  He  called  every  member  of  the  mess.  We 
organized  to  go  after  him,  but  were  not  allowed. 
Truth  was,  as  we  found  next  morning,  the  Yanks  had 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  83 

left  the  field  and  he  was  found  shot  through  his  thigh 
and  had  bled  to  death. 

Later  in  the  day  my  Regiment  was  detailed  to  go 
ahead  to  put  the  roads  in  order  for  the  army  as  it  re- 
tired. Sherman's  plan  was  to  flank  us  out  of  every 
position.  This  he  could  easily  do  as  he  had  great 
hordes  of  cavalry  and  I  suppose  three  men  to  our  one. 
This  plan  was  successfully  followed  to  the  end. 
Many  fights  on  the  retreat,  we  were  kept  out  of,  by 
this  detail  to  work  the  road. 

CHAPTER  6. 

At  Cedar  Town  a  General  and  his  staff,  stopped 
near  us  and 

I  learned  it  was  General  John  Killy.     He    was    a 

young  man,  step  grandson  of  Colonel  Dick  Hawthorn 
of  Pine  Apple.  He  and  I  were  in  school  together.  I 
approached  him,  made  myself  known  and  was  gra- 
ciously received.  He  had  his  orderly  to  take  my  name 
and  address  and  insisted  I  should  come  to  his  camp 
the  first  chance.  He  was  a  Cavalry  General  and  was 
pretty  soon  after  this  killed  in  Tennessee.  Somewhere 
along  here  I  took  sick  and  was  sent  to  LaGrange  to 
the  hospital.  I  got  back  to  the  Regiment  later  at  New 
Hope  Church. 

One  night,  a  great  detail  was  called  from  my  Regi- 
ment with  axes.  Just  at  dark  we  received  orders  to 
begin  to  cut  down  trees  and  raise  the  biggest  hulla- 
ballue  possible.  In  the  midst  of  the  sound  of  the  axes, 
there  was  yelling,  the  falling  of  trees,  the  gleam  of 
big  fires  and  the  band  playing.  The  army  was  on  the 
retreat  and  we  were  the  rear  guard,  keeping  up  a 
show  of  things  until  it  should  get  away.  After  mid- 
night we  slipped  away. 

The  night  of  the  Fourth  of  June!  Who  that  was 
there  can   ever  forget  it?     It  rained  a  slow,   steady 


84  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

rain  the  live  long  night,  as  it  had  been  doing  some 
days  before.  We  were  soon  in  touch  with  the  re- 
treating army.  The  mud  was  knee  deep  in  places. 
Every  wagon  and  cannon  seemed  to  stall  at  every 
mudhole  and  had  to  be  rolled  out  by  hand.  This,  of 
course,  stopped  the  infantry.  It  was  only  four  miles 
to  Lost  Mountain,  the  next  stoj:),  but  it  took  the  whole 
night.  Sometimes  we'd  move  ten  feet  then  stop  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes,  or  even  longer.  Nothing  could  be 
more  wearying  and  exasperating. 

The  Atlanta  women  had  sent  out  tracts  for  the 
soldiers.  I  got  hold  of  one,  "How  to  Preserve  the 
Health  in  the  Army."  Among  other  things,  it  sug- 
gested, *'When  on  the  march  and  a  halt  comes,  lay 
down  and  if  possible  sleep — your  stay  may  be  five  min- 
utes, or  half  an  hour."  I  got  that  rule  down  pat.  I'd 
tell  the  boys,  as  I  tumbled  down,  to  wake  me,  but  gen- 
erally it  was  unnecessary  as  I'd  hear  their  slush  in  the 
mud  when  they'd  started.  In  that  way  I  slept  most  of 
the  night.  The  next  morning,  I  was  as  bright  as  a 
dollar,  but  my  companions  were  the  most  woe-begone 
creatures  you  ever  saw.  There,  I  learned  to  sleep  on 
short  notice  and  it  has  been  of  untold  value  to  me. 

That  morning,  about  the  second  time  in  all  my 
knowledge,  they 

Issued  a  ration  of  Liquor,  or  as  the  boys  called  it, 
"Pine   Top."     I   swapped  mine   for  tobacco. 

Joe  Johnston's  plan  seemed  to  be  to  fall  back  a  few 
miles,  and  form  a  "streak-of-fight,"  as  the  boys  called 
it.  The  enemy,  of  course,  must  readjust  his  lines — that 
would  often  take  some  days.  Meantime,  Old  Joe's  men 
were  coming  up  from  the  rear,  from  the  hospitals,  from 
furloughs  and  from  other  positions — not  a  thing  was 
left  behind.  Some  one  said,  "Old  Joe  is  going  to 
move  tonight,"  "No,"  said  another,  "he  may  go  to- 
morrow night,  but  I  saw  a  wagon  broken  down  and 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  85 

the  blacksmiths  had  just  gotten  there.  We'll  not  go 
until  that  wagon  is  fixed." 

While  building  breastworks  on  Lost  Mountain,  I 
went,  between  reliefs,  to  the  top  and  saw  General  Le- 
onidas  Pope  with  his  staff  making  observations 
through  their  glasses.  Across  the  valley,  the  Yan- 
kees seemed  to  be  planting  a  battery.  Just  as  I  got 
back,  I  heard  a  shell  explode  on  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain. It  was  the  first  shell  from  the  Yankee  battery 
and 

It  killed  General  Pope.  He  was  a  good  man,  great- 
ly beloved  by  all  his  men.  He  was  a  Bishop  in  the 
Episcopal  church. 

Only  a  few  days  later,  we  were  in  a  splendid  line  on 
Big  Kennesaw.  My  Regiment  was  at  the  highest 
point.  Immense  rocks  crowned  the  top.  In  con- 
structing the  ditches,  a  great  rock,  probably  fifty  feet 
across,  was  encountered  and  a  gap  had  to  be  left. 
Being  the  middle  company,  the  color  guard  was  next 
to  us. 

The  gap  and  the  Regimental  colors,  seemed  to  be 
the  center  of  the  enemy's  fire.  Sometimes  a  dozen 
shells  came  at  once,  exploding  at  the  great  rocks  in 
our  rear,  sending  back,  down  the  steep  incline,  pieces 
of  shell  and  fragments  of  rock.  Our  time  was  mostly 
occupied  in  stopping  these  before  they  rolled  in  on  us. 
One  day  when  the  Yanks  seemed  most  vicious,  one  big 
shell  burst  exactly  in  the  gap.  After  each  explosion, 
when  the  danger  was  passed,  we'd  have  a  laugh  at 
some  incident  that  occurred.  On  the  occasion  I  am 
speaking  of,  observing  a  red  spot  on  a  comrade's  light 
colored  hat,  I  said  in  jest,  "Bill  Nick  is  mighty  nigh 
scared  to  death,  he  is  sweating  blood." 

Lifting  his  hat,  a  handful  of  brains  fell  to  the  ground. 
Captain  Richardson,  the  officer  of  the  day,  had  just 
passed  and  stopped  for  a  moment  on  the  rock  in  the 


86  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

gap.  The  shell  had  torn  his  head  completely  off.  He 
was  a  noble  man,  a  brave  officer,  and  a  Presbyterian 
preacher.  I  never  saw  the  spirit  of  men  so  complete- 
ly broken.  If  we  could  have  gone  at  the  enemy,  we 
would  have  given  a  good  account  of  ourselves ;  but 
cooped  up,  on  top  of  the  mountain,  unable  to  do  a 
thing,  but  wait  and  be  slaughtered — it  was  a  great 
relief  to  retire  that  night  through  Marietta. 

The  Chattahoochee  river  was  not  far  away.  As  we 
crossed  the  boys  said,  as  they  had  said  many  times 
before,  "Old  Joe  is  going  to  cross  this  river  and  then 
make  his  stand."  But  we  went  until  we  were  in  the 
suburbs  of  Atlanta. 

Then  rumors  began  to  reach  us  that  Johnson  had 
informed  the  war  department  at  Richmond,  Atlanta 
could  not  be  defended,  if  the  army  was  saved,  it  must 
be  evacuated.  Johnson  was  relieved  and  Hood  put 
in  charge. 

On  the  20th  of  July,  the  battle  of  Peach  Tree  Creek 
was  fought.  We  took  the  Yanks  in  our  front  en- 
tirely by  surprise,  they  were  mostly  foreigners  who 
couldn't  speak  English.  They  threw  down  their  guns 
and  surrendered  in  droves  and,  that  was  our  undoing. 
Too  many  of  our  fellows  were  willing  to  carry  pris- 
oners to  the  rear.  There  was  no  reserve  line  to  carry 
on  the  victory.  Stones  Brigade  on  our  right  had  to 
come  up  through  an  old  field,  facing  a  battery  of 
four  guns  and  were  unsuccessful.  Lieutenant  Pierce 
English,  gun  in  hand,  with  three  of  us,  found  ourselves 
on  a  hill,  rather  behind  the  battery  on  our  right,  which 
was  firing  on  Stone's  Brigade.  We  had  used  up  all 
our  ammunition ;  we  picked  up  Yankee  cartridge  box- 
es, which  strewed  the  ground.  Their  guns  carried  a 
ball  about  two  calibers  smaller  than  ours.  We  aban- 
doned the  slow  method  of  drawing  the  rammer  to  load. 
We  tore  the  cartridge,  placed  it  in  the  muzzle,  stam- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  87 

ped  the  breech  on  the  ground ;  the  weight  of  the 
bullet  carried  the  cartridge  home,  and  we  had  only 
to  cap  and  fire.     It  was  almost  like  a  repeating  rifle. 

For  an  hour  we  went  "squirred  hunting/'  There 
seemed  to  be  no  danger  in  our  front.  The  Yanks  had 
continued  their  flight  we  thought,  to  the  river.  We 
fired  on  the  battery  to  our  right  so  fast,  they  almost 
ceased  firing.  They  turned  a  gun  on  us,  but  fired  only 
one  time.  Probably  they  were  short  of  ammunition, 
for  the  caissons  were  being  rushed  forward  as  fast  as 
the  horses  could  carry  them,  but  we  shot  the  horses 
down. 

Old  Bill  Nicholson,  one  of  our  party,  had  been  a 
Texas  Ranger.  Returning  to  Mississippi,  his  native 
State,  he  enlisted,  though  he  had  a  leg  stifif  from  rheu- 
matism— that  was  no  bar  to  service  in  those  days.  He 
brought  with  him  from  Texas  an  old  six  shooter, 
which  he  buckled  around  him.  It  was  the  joke  of  the 
company  when  Nick,  every  few  weeks,  went  out  into 
the  bushes,  tried  his  pistol  at  a  tree,  then  for  a  couple 
of  hours  cleaned  and  reloaded  it.  There  were  no  pis- 
tol cartridges  in  those  days,  and  loading  was  a  slow 
process.  He  had  never  found  use  for  it,  but  he  said  the 
time  would  come.  He  was  the  only  man  in  the  com- 
pany who  had  a  revolver.  On  the  occasion  to  which 
I  refer,  Bill  said  to  the  Lieutenant,  "Pierce,  kill  that 
Yankee."  It  so  happened  that  not  a  gun  was  loaded 
and  Bill  had  forgotten  his  pistol.  Perhaps  the  Yank's 
gun  was  empty  too,  for  we  saw  him  twenty  steps  away 
dodge  into  the  bushes.  A  hasty  counsel  was  held  and 
we  decided  they  were  returning  and  we'd  better  get 
out.  What  had  become  of  the  balance  of  our  forces 
we  did  not  know.    With  our  guns  all  loaded, 

We  started  out  the  way  we  came  in.  On  rising  a 
very  steep  hill  in  the  woods  we  saw,  fifty  yards  away, 
the  woods  black  with  Yankees.     They  had  dropped 


88  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

in  behind  us,  but  with  no  idea  there  was  danger 
from  that  direction,  they  were  looking  to  their  front. 
We  all  fired  into  the  thickest  bunch  of  them,  then 
fairly  rolled  down  the  steep  hillside.  Three  of  us  rush- 
ed down  a  ravine  and  after  passing  a  spur  went  up  an- 
other ravine.  Poor  old  Bill  Nick,  went  across  the  spur 
and  we  gave  him  up  as  lost. 

We  saw  General  Walthall,  our  Division  Com- 
mander, and  staff  riding  leisurely  down  the 
road.  I  shouted  to  him,  telling  of  his  danger. 
One  of  his  party  came  galloping  saying,  "Go  back  to 
the  front  you  stragglers."  With  that  our  Lieuten- 
ant walked  away.  Demanding  that  we  should  go  back, 
I  remarked,  I'd  speak  to  the  General.  When  he  came 
up,  in  a  few  words  I  told  him  Stone's  Brigade  hadn't 
come  up,  that  the  Yanks  were  only  a  little  way  down 
the  road.  On  his  expressing  great  doubt  saying,  "We 
certainly  carried  everything,"  the  smart  Alex  of  an 
aide  shouted  out,  as  he  galloped  off,  "I'll  see."  A 
short  distance  away  he  wheeled  his  horse  and  a  hun- 
dred bullets  flew  through  the  woods  in  his  direction. 
In  the  middle  of  the  road  there  was  a  brass  cannon 
left  by  some  one.  The  General  said,  "You  two  men 
remain  right  here  by  this  gun  and  when  I  send  you  a 
force,  pilot  them  to  that  hill  you  were  on."  My  com- 
panion was 

"Chunky"  Thompson,  called  that  because  he  was  not 
chunky.  He  was  as  slim  as  a  rail  and  probably  six  feet 
and  a  half  tall.  We  looked  at  the  gun  and  found  it 
loaded,  but  how  to  shoot  it,  we  did  not  know.  Finally, 
however,  we  thought  we  knew  and  were  determined 
we'd  fire  it,  if  the  Yanks  came. 

After  a  time  the  Forty-fifth  Arkansas  came,  a  very 
small  number  of  men.  Later  another  bunch — prob- 
ably 500  gathered  at  last. 

Then  came  a  Senior  Colonel,  drunk  as  a  fool.  I'll 
not  mention  his  name,  because  of  subsequent  history. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  89 

He  called  for  the  men,  General  Walthall  left  there.  He 
wanted  to  know  the  direction  to  the  hill,  from  which 
we  had  been  driven.  I  pointed  the  direction  and  sug- 
gested modestly,  that  my  companion  and  I,  with  a  few 
others  should  act  as  skirmishers,  for  there  was  no 
telling  what  changes  had  occurred.  He  cursed  me 
and  told  me  he  was  capable  of  running  that  business. 
After  a  time,  in  the  wildest  confusion,  we  were  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill.    I  said, 

"There's  the  hill,  Colonel,  I  can't  tell  you  what's  on 
top."  He  ordered  the  charge.  When  within  twenty 
or  thirty  steps  of  the  top,  a  solid  blue  line  of  Yankees 
rose  up.  At  the  first  fire,  half  of  our  men  fell.  I 
fired  my  gun,  then  attempted  to  load  it,  lying  down. 
It  had  been  fired  so  much,  it  had  gotten  cold  and  clog- 
ged ;  the  bullet  hung  half  way  down.  Standing  half 
bent,  trying  to  ram  the  bullet  home,  the  gun  was 
shot  out  of  my  hand,  the  stock  literally  torn  to  splint- 
ers. Fortunately,  some  of  us  escaped,  the  Yanks  firing 
down  hill,  as  is  most  generally  the  case,  over  shot  us. 

Drunkenness  and  foolhardiness  had  lost  half 
our  men.  Getting  back  to  camp  that  night  we 
talked  of  the  doings  of  the  day.  How  we  talked 
of  poor  old  Bill  Nick  !  We  mourned  him  as  dead,  when 
about  ten  o'clock,  he  limped  into  camp  with  his  empty 
pistol  strapped  about  him.  When  asked  about  it,  he 
said:  "They  tried  to  kill  me  by  shooting  at  me,  and 
I  don't  see  how  they  missed  me.  Then  they  under- 
took to  run  me  down  and  I  got  five  of  them  with  my 
revolver."  Think  of  the  weary  marches  for  two  years, 
loaded  down,  as  he  was,  he  clung  to  the  old  Texas 
weapon  saying,  "Some  day  I'll  need  it,"  and  that  day 
had  come ! 

Of  course  the  common  soldier  didn't  know,  but 
certain  we  were,  with  a  fresh  column  to  have 
followed  up  the  drive,  the  results  would  have 
been   a   complete   victory,    for   there   was    little    fight 


90  A   BOOK   OF   MEAIORIES. 

in  the  enemy.  I  am  certain  many  of  them  did  not 
stop  until  the  Chattahoochee  was  reached.  Our  men 
were  cast  down  because  of  the  removal  of  Joe  John- 
son, the  loved  commander. 

On  the  22nd  of  July  to  our  right,  Hardies'  men 
fought,  when  General  McPherson  of  the  Federal  army 
was  killed.  On  the  morning  of  the  28th,  John  Knox  and 
I  started  out  to  find  some  vegetables.  We  were  burn- 
ed out  on  bacon  and  Corn  bread.  In  some  of  the  de- 
serted gardens  in  Atlanta,  where  army  horses  were 
corralled,  we  found  a  few  small  Irish  potatoes,  some 
collard  sprouts,  a  few  peas ;  they  filled  my  haversack. 
We  were  happy  over  the  prospect  of  vegetable  soup 
for  dinner. 

But  just  as  we  reached  camp  the  bugle  sounded,  we 
fell  in  and  were  marched  rapidly  to  the  left.  Formed 
in  line  of  battle,  we  were  ordered  to  advance.  We  heard 
no  firing  in  front,  we  saw  no  skirmishers.  Descend- 
ing a  hill,  we  were  fired  upon  by  infantry,  scarce  sixty 
yards  away  behind  breast  works  and  old  buildings. 
Large  numbers  of  our  men  fell  at  the  first  fire,  bul- 
lets coming  from  several  directions.  I  fell  behind  a 
log,  but  before  I  fired  a  shot,  I  was  struck  on  the  hip 
bone,  the  bullet's  passage,  much  weakened  by  going 
between  the  log  and  a  rail  that  lay  on  the  top.  We 
retired  not  in  good  order — fact  is,  when  I  found  I 
had  the  full  use  of  my  leg,  I  made  good  time  getting 
away. 

Bullets  from  three  directions  plowed  the  ground 
like  great  worms  in  the  earth.  Getting  out,  I  went 
to  the  field  hospital,  but  didn't  report  to  the  surgeons 
as  my  wound  was  only  a  great  bruise,  which  passed 
away  in  about  a  week. 

I  got  a  fellow  that  night,  who  had  a  piece  of  meat, 
to  make  us  some  vegetable  soup.  It  was  a  sad  meal, 
for  poor  John  Knox  my  chum  was  killed  in  the  first 
fire ;  a  bullet  passing  through  his  head.    My  old  hav- 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  91 

ersack,  so  full  of  vegetables  that  it  bulged,  had  a  half 
dozen  holes  through  it. 

For  ten  days  my  body  was  sore  from  the  passage 
of  bullets,  some  through  my  clothing  and  some  that 
barely  made  my  clothes  threadbare  as  they  passed, 
but  leaving  a  sore  place  on  the  flesh  as  if  scorched  by 
fire.  My  case  knife  turned  two  bullets  off  me  and  my 
tube  wrench  and  screw  driver  in  my  cartridge  box,  was 
broken  by  another.  I  have  the  knife  and  screw-driver 
now.  I  had  the  bullet  too,  which  I  found  in  the  in- 
side pocket  of  a  second  pair  of  pants,  but  I  lost  it  in 
the  changes  of  the  years. 

In  telling  this  I  am  always  reminded  of 

Pat,  of  the  Federal  Army,  at  Bull  Run.  Someone 
protested,  "Pat,  you  didn't  run  did  you?  The  reply 
was,  "Faith,  and  them  as  didn't  run,  are  there  yit." 

I  never  have  know^n  what  to  call  this  battle,  for  I 
have  never  read  any  of  the  histories,  but  from  some- 
where the  name  of  the  "Poor  House"  is  associated 
with  it. 

It  was  a  new  thing,  we  were  attacking.  Three  bat- 
tles within  a  week  were  making  things  interesting, 
but  unfortunately  we  gained  nothing.  Sherman  be- 
gan again  the  tactics,  so  successfully  carried  out  for 
two  months,  of  flanking  us  out. 

In  a  few  days  I  took  dysentery  and  fever  and  w£s 
sent  to  a  hospital  in  the  southern  part  of  the  city.  I 
was  desperately  ill,  delirious  at  night  and  mind  flighty 
in  day  time.  About  the  middle  of  an  afternoon,  a 
physician  and  nurse  came.  Examination  was  made 
and  the  doctor  would  give  some  word  to  the  nurse 
who  would  write  it  down.  I  thought  I  heard  him 
say,  after  my  examination,  "He  must  stay."  I  wasn't 
certain,  but  gave  good  heed  when  he  spoke  the  word 
at  the  next  cot. 

The  words  got  on  my  nerves.  I  began  to  think  of  a 
retreat,     I  raised  up  in  my  cot  and  out  through  the 


92  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

door,  I  could  see  troops  and  wagons  going  south.  Un- 
til near  dark,  I  kept  observing  and  became  assured 
that  the  retreat  was  on  and  I  was  marked  to  remain. 
My  mind  was  hazy,  but  I  got  my  clothes  on.  They 
were  not  much,  only  two  pairs  of  pants  and  two  shirts 
and  a  dilapidated  pair  of  shoes.  We  had  discarded 
knapsacks  long  ago.  These  on,  with  canteen  and  emp- 
ty haversack  in  hand,  I  walked  out.  I  hesitated,  I 
doubted  if  I  could  get  down  to  the  road.  Just  then 
a  bright  light  lit  up  the  heavens  and  explosions  oc- 
curred that  shook  the  earth.  Then  I  knew  the  gov- 
ernment property  was  being  burned. 

That  put  ginger  in  my  bones  and  I  lit  out.  I  drank 
liberally  at  a  stream  and  passed  on.  I  was  sure  I 
was  lost  for  nobody  passed  me.  The  truth  was, 
the  whole  army  was  ahead  of  me.  I  kept  noticing 
something  white  in  the  road.  Presently  I  reached 
for  it,  when  lo,  it  was  a  "Yankee  hard  tack."  I  was 
ravenously  fond  of  them  and  began  to  eat  as  I  walked. 
During  the  night  I  filled  my  haversack  and  I  suspect  I 
ate  almost  as  many  more.  I  broke  out  in  a  profuse 
perspiration  and  was  sure  my  fever  was  going.  My 
surmise  was  that  we  had  captured  stores  from  the 
Yanks  up  the  State  somewhere  and  one  of  the  wag- 
ons had  a  box,  which  jolted  the  crackers  through  a 
hole  in  the  box.  It  was  another  case  of  the  raven 
ministering  to  God's  servants,  only  I  wasn't  much 
of  a  servant,  but 

As  sure  as  you  live,  God  was  my  friend  and  was  sav- 
ing me  for  a  purpose.  I  found  after  many  trials,  dry 
crackers  are  fine  for  disordered  bowels.  To  their 
great  surprise  and  my  great  joy,  I  reached  my  com- 
mand next  morning  at  breakfast.  The  battle  of 
Jonesboro  had  been  fought  just  the  day  before,  a  lit- 
tle south  of  where  we  were. 

In  a  very  few  days  the  word  passed  along. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  93 

"We  are  going  to  Tennessee."  The  words  were 
like  magic.  Hood  was  forgiven,  Johnson  was  for- 
gotten and  a  memorable  march  began.  The  idea  was 
to  drop  in  behind  Sherman,  destroy  the  railroad,  cut- 
ting him  off  from  his  store  of  supplies  at  Nashville, 
"and"  **and" — I  can't  begin  to  tell  all  the  movement 
meant  to  him.  Little  did  we  think  he  had  left  an 
army  behind  competent  to  handle  us,  and  he'd  make 
a  break  through  the  pine  forests  of  Georgia  for  Sa- 
vannah. But  so  it  turned  out.  However,  we  had  a 
high  old  time  destroying  the  railroad  north  of  Atlanta, 
right  along  where  we  retreated  a  few  weeks  before. 
We  passed  through  Rome,  Gadsden,  Attalla,  and  up 
Sand  Mountain.  We  saw  but  one  house  all  the  day 
long  on  the  lonely  mountain  road.  Little  did  any 
of  us  believe  that  it  would  become  thickly  settled 
and  a  most  prosperous  part  of  Alabama,  but  so  it  has 
become. 

In  a  day  or  two,  we  approached  Decatur.  We  were 
told  it  was  strongly  fortified  and  we  found  it  true.  I 
suppose,  a  demonstration  was  to  be  made  there, 
while  the  army  was  marching  west  to  cross  the  Ten- 
nessee at  Florence. 

One  of  the  densest  fogs  I  ever  saw  prevailed  the 
morning  after  we  arrived  at  what  is  now  called,  East 
Decatur.  I  was  put  in  charge  of  three  men,  fifteen  or 
twenty  feet  away  was  another  squad.  One  was  to 
go  in  front  of  his  squad  and  when  he  had  approached 
as  near  the  breastworks  as  he  dared,  he  was  to  give 
the  signal  and  the  three  men  armed,  with  pick  and 
spade  besides  their  guns,  were  to  go  to  digging  for 
their  lives. 

When  I  got  near  enough  to  easily  distinguish  voices, 
I  gave  the  signal  and  then  the  dirt  flew.  The  Yanks 
were  busy  eating  their  breakfast.  This  was  in  old  De- 
catur. All  of  a  sudden,  the  fog  lifted,  and  there  we 
were,  in  twenty  steps  of  a  splendid  line  of  breastworks. 


94  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

We  made  a  break  across  an  open  field  for  the  woods,  a 
mile  away.  We  left  a  line  of  tools,  probably  a  mile 
long.  It  seemed  to  me  I  never  ran  as  slowly  in  my  life 
and  strange  to  say,  the  Yanks  were  not  firing  on  us ; 
truth  was  they  hadn't  seen  us.  We  had  gone  half  the 
distance,  when  the  whiz  and  zip  of  the  bullets  made  it 
interesting.  There  must  have  been  a  thousand  shots 
fired,  but  not  a  man  was  hit.  The  man  who  gave  that 
order,  ought  to  have  been  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  or  in 
prison.  But  the  other  side  had  some  fools  too.  With  a 
Regiment  or  two  we  could  have  captured  the  whole 
force,  that  foggy  morning,  almost  without  firing  a  gun. 
No  sentinels  or  pickets  out,  everybody  feeling  safe 
behind  their  magnificent  breastworks. 

CHAPTER  7. 

The  two  days  march  down  the  railroad  to  Tuscum- 
bia  impressed  me  with  the  beauty  of  the  Tennessee 
valley  and  the  picture  has  remained  with  me.  But 
for  the  great  plantations,  the  thriftless  tenants  and 
absentee  landlords,  it  could  be  made  to  flourish  as 
the  garden  of  the  Lord. 

Just  above  where  the  bridge  at  Florence  is, 
we  encamped.  I  bought  from  one  of  Forest's 
teamsters  a  pair  of  shoes,  I  will  never  forget. 
Coming  dowm  to  the  great  pontoon,  the  teams  would 
stop,  so  that  only  a  few  wagons  should  be  on  the 
bridge  at  once.  I  had  worn  out  my  shoes,  had  only 
the  soles  strapped  on  my  feet.  A  Yank  transport  had 
been  captured  by  the  cavalry  and  these  wagons  were 
full  of  army  supplies  from  the  boat.  Some  of  the 
drivers  had  slipped  a  few  pairs  of  shoes.  They'd  swear 
they  didn't  have  a  pair;  but  another  tale  would  be 
told  for  their  price. 

I  stood  in  the  mud  that  November  night,  until  nearly 
dark,  trying  to  make  a  trade.     Finally  a   fellow   of- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  95 

fered  me  a  pair  of  number  tens  for  $30.00,  I  wore 
eights,  but  it  looked  like  I'd  start  into  Tennessee  next 
day  practically  barefooted,  so  I  forked  over  the  money. 
Those  Yankee  Shoes !  They  looked  like  flat  boats  with 
their  great  square  toes.  There  was  fun  in  my  mess 
when  I  began  to  fix  up  for  the  next  day's  travel. 
The  Confederate  pants  were  big-legged;  stand- 
ing before  the  fires  I  had  scorched  mine  behind 
and  they  had  raveled  out  nearly  to  the  knees.  I  wrap- 
ped the  flaps  about  my  legs,  tied  strings  around,  put 
on  my  shoes,  stuffiing  old  rags  in  to  fill  up.  My  legs 
were  like  the  young  soldier  today  with  their  puttees 
(I  invented  the  puttees,) — I  slept  with  my  shoes  on 
that  night. 

Crossing  the  seven  hundred  yards  pontoon  next  day, 
single  file,  we  were  much  scattered  and  had  to  double- 
quick  to  catch  up. 

One  thing  I  always  went  wild  about,  a  girl  jmd  a 
white  handkerchief.  Passing  the  Presbyterian  Col- 
lege, the  girls  were  out  in  full  force,  waving.  I  see 
myself,  cap  in  one  hand,  gun  in  the  other,  yelling  at 
at  top  of  my  voice  and  trotting  in  my  number  tens. 
Those  shoes  were  a  wonder !  they'd  go  out  of  the  road 
to  find  a  rock  to  stump  against  and  throw  me  down. 

When  we  passed  into  Tennessee,  we  found  plenty 
to  eat.  It  was  a  grain  country  and  we  fared  well. 
Evidences  soon  began  to  be  seen  that  we  were  tak- 
ing the  Yankees  by  surprise.  Probably  our  advanced 
troops  had  engaged  them  the  evening  before  near 
Columbia.  My  command  was  marched  to  the  right 
of  the  town,  waded  Duck's  river,  and  camped  with- 
out the  sound  of  an  ax,  or  the  lighting  of  a  match,  with- 
in a  quarter  mile  of  the  Franklin  turnpike.  All  the 
night  we  heard  the  passing  of  wagons  and  artillery. 
Of  course  our  officers  must  have  known  they  were 
Yankees,   but  the   rank  and  file   thought  it  was   our 


96  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

men.  When  daylight  came  we  were  marched  onto  the 
pike  and  saw 

The  signs  of  a  panic  stricken  army.  Wagons  had 
been  abandoned.  Some  of  the  teams  had  been  shot,  to 
keep  the  mules  from  falling  into  our  hands.  Men  had 
thrown  away  their  guns  and  knapsacks.  We  could  all 
see  somebody  had  blundered.  Any  hour  of  the  night 
before,  we  could  have  bagged  them,  but  orders  were 
not  given.  Some  charged  the  fault  on  one,  some  on 
another.  A  foot  race  began;  we  crowded  them  up  to 
the  corporate  limits  of  Franklin.  To  the  common 
soldier,  it  looked  like  we  could  have  moved  right  on 
and  captured  the  town,  but  we  began  to  manoeuver 
from  ten  o'clock  until  four,  giving  them  time  to  com- 
plete a  splendid  line  of  breastworks.  When  the  as- 
sault was  made,  we  were,  after  the  hardest  sort  of 
fighting,  successful,  but  it  was  a  most  costly  victory, 
if  victory,  it  was. 

The  next  day,  my  Regiment  was  left  on  the  field  to 
bury  the  dead.  Before  night  we  went  into  camp  a 
mile  up  the  Harpeth  River,  an  insignificant  stream ; 
next  morning  we  crossed  on  a  rail  bridge,  thus  sur- 
rounding the  little  city.  There  was  no  obstruction 
except  one  old  fort,  which  amounted  to  but  little.  "Why 
the  battle  of  Franklin?"  the  boys  began  to  ask.  Gen- 
eral Hood,  after  that  was  called  a  *'blood-letter." 

"On  to  Nashville"  was  the  slogan  then.  I  think  we 
made  it  in  a  few  hours.  That  night,  I  was  sent  out 
on  picket,  where  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  remain 
until  daylight,  without  sleep.  Getting  back,  the  boys 
were  preparing  breakfast  by  a  big  rail  fire..  Tennes- 
see might  be  called  the  walnut  state,  they  were  every- 
where, and  all  the  spare  time  of  a  soldier  was  taken 
up  with  cracking  and  eating  them.  Sitting  with  my 
back  towards  Nashville,  eating  walnuts,  a  bullet,  shot 
on  the  picket  line  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  found  lodg- 
ment just  below  my  left  shoulder  blade.     But  for  its 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  97 

hitting  a  rib,  it  would  have  caused  instant  death. 
I  was  hustled  off  in  a  road  wagon  to  a  hospital,  eigh- 
teen miles  away,  at  Franklin.  When  I  found  out  that 
my  wound  wasn't  much  and  I  had  good  use  of  one  arm 
and  my  limbs. 

My  old  time  habit  of  foraging  came  on  me.  I  ven- 
tured out  to  dinner  one  day  with  a  fine  family,  a  few 
miles  away.  Probably,  I  was  the  first  soldier  wounded 
at  Nashville,  so  I  was  quite  a  hero.  I  returned  next 
morning  for  the  dressing  of  my  wound  and  in  the  aft- 
ernoon ventured  a  little  further  out  and  allowed  the 
good  people  to  persuade  me  to  remain  all  night :  I  was 
fixing  to  have  the  time  of  my  life  thereabouts.  I  was 
in  no  hurry  to  ge  back,  but  when  I  came  in  sight  of 
the  pike  I  saw  soldiers  straggling  along  towards  the 
South.  Presently  I  heard  a  cannon  fire  just  across  the 
river.     I  made  hasty  inquiry  and  found  that 

The  whole  army  had  passed  through  Franklin  the 
night  before  and  the  cannon  was  fired  by  the  rear 
guard  at  the  approaching  enemy.  I  hurried  to  the 
hospital,  got  my  blanket,  canteen  and  haversack  and 
struck  out  South.  Those  who  have  read  my  adven- 
tures in  getting  through  the  lines  know,  that  I  was 
"a  walker  from  Walkertown."  With  the  Yanks  that 
near  behind,  I  didn't  know  what  minute  a  band  of  them, 
on  some  by-road  might  intercept  me.  That  thought, 
put  quicksilver  in  my  heels  and  oil  in  my  joints.  I 
caught  up  with  my  command,  remained  one  night, 
when  my  officers  told  me  to  move  on — a  commarfd, 
they  didn't  have  to  repeat  the  second  time. 

CHAPTER  8. 

About  twenty-five  wounded  men  stayed  with  a  fine 
old  Tennessee  planter  named,  Thompson  near  Pu- 
laski. Some  of  us  protested  that  we  ought  to  scat- 
ter out  and  not  impose  on  him,  but  he  said : 


98  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

"No,  you  are  my  folks;  I  esteem  it  a  privilege  to 
take  care  of  you.  The  Yanks  are  coming  and  what 
you  don't  get,  they  will  take."  I  am  sure  they  dealt 
roughly  with  him,  if  he  talked  like  I  imagined  he 
would. 

One  night,  not  far  from  Florence,  a  number  of  us 
stopped  with  an  old  lady  who  was  all  alone,  except 
half  a  dozen  negroes,  who  didn't  like  it  a  little  bit 
that  we  were  there.  At  her  suggestion  we  appointed 
two  of  our  number  who  had  guns,  to  see  that  supper 
and  breakfast  were  prepared  for  us.  Just  as  well,  we 
could  have  carried  away  something  for  next  day,  but 
soldier-like,  we  marched  away  next  morning  without 
a  morsel  of  food  in  our  haversacks. 

It  was  the  day  before  Christmas,  a  great  white 
frost  covered  the  ground.  Just  two  miles  away  was 
Shoal  Creek ;  the  bridge  had  been  destroyed.  It  look- 
ed to  me  like  the  widest  stream  I'd  ever  seen. 

Cold  as  it  was,  it  must  be  waded.  The  bottom  was 
rough  with  great  boulders,  the  water  running  like  a 
mill  race.  In  a  little  while  there  was  a  hundred  or 
more  men  on  its  banks,  all  wounded  in  the  arms  or 
head.  It  was  awful  to  take  the  water  that  morning, 
but  we  did  it.  At  the  river,  a  couple  miles  away,  in 
our  wet  clothes,  we  waited  all  day  for  the  pontoon 
boats  to  come  down.  On  the  other  side,  that  night 
three  of  us  persuaded  a  negro  to  get  us  an  ear  of  com. 
We  gave  him  a  five  dollar  Confederate  bill — I  sus- 
pect some  one  assured  him  it  w^as  greenback. 

Through  Tuscumbia  and  on  to  Barton,  we  marched 
without  breakfast,  on  that  Christmas  morning.  That 
was  the  terminus,  for  the  time  being,  of  the  railroad 
from  Corinth.  An  officer  and  a  few  soldiers, 
were  glad  to  see  us,  as  they  feared  an  attack  from  the 
gun  boats  in  the  Tennessee  River,  only  a  little  way 
back.  Each  of  us  drew  rations  for  three  men,  so  we 
three  sat  down  to  cook  and  eat. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  99 

Corn  bread  and  bacon  for  nine  men.  We  soon  clean- 
ed it  up  and  parched  corn  the  balance  of  the  day. 

The  station  house  was  fortified  with  sacks  of  corn. 
Next  morning  we  entrained,  ran  five  miles  to  Cher- 
okee, got  off  the  track  and  remained  twenty-four 
hours  without  even  corn  to  parch. 

At  Corinth,  a  few  days  later, 

I  was  given  a  furlough  for  thirty  days,  and  was  ofiF 
for  South  Mississippi.  I  found  at  Meridian,  the  Vicks- 
burg  train  only  ran  every  other  day,  that  it  would  be 
twenty-four  hours  before  the  next  would  leave.  It 
was  fifty  miles  to  Newton,  my  destination.  So  I  start- 
ed afoot  for  my  brother-in-law's,  who  lived  nine  miles 
east  of  Newton.  The  next  afternoon  about  sundown, 
when  I  walked  up  in  the  back  yard,  I  heard  the  train 
blow  at  Newton — I  had  walked  fifty  miles  and  saved 
nine.  I'd  had  my  jacket  only  partly  on  since  I  was 
wounded,  but  I  stopped  in  the  woods  near  home  and 
wiggled  into  it.  Of  course  all  were  delighted  and  sur- 
prised to  see  me. 

Hugging  and  kissing  is  all  right  ordinarily,  but  this 
was  an  exceptional  case  and  I  had  to  play  cold.  I  got 
through  the  first  scene  all  right.  Then  came  the  whys 
and  the  wherefores  and  I  delivered  myself  about  thus : 
"I  want  to  deal  candidly  with  you  all,  I  have  deserted. 
I  don't  want  any  of  the  neighbors  to  know  that  I  am 
here  and  early  in  the  morning  I  want  to  slip  off  to 
Jones  county.  I've  had  enough  of  it.  I  was  a  fool  not 
to  stay  in  California  when  I  was  there.  It  is  a  rich 
man's  war  and  a  poor  man's  fight.  I  don't  own  any 
niggers."  And  so  I  went  on  in  the  most  pessimistic 
fashion.  Jones  county  was  the  deserter's  paradise.  All 
were  listening  with  flushed  cheeks,  one  of  my  sisters 
was  crying,  and  my  old  father,  with  not  a  word  to  say, 
sat  in  blank  astonishment.  Just  then,  a  little  impru- 
dent move  in  my  chair,  touched  my  wound  and  I  flinch- 
ed, whereupon  one  of  my  sisters  was  on  me  with  the 


100  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

words,  ''Bud's  wounded."  In  a  little  while  the  jacket 
was  off  and  the  wound,  undressed  for  three  or  four 
days,  was  being  bathed. 

I  said  to  old  father,  "I  have  heard  you  tell  how  your 
father  was  in  the  Indian  war  and  was  shot  in  the 
breast  with  a  squirrel  rifle  and  how  proud  the  whole 
family  was  that  it  was  in  the  breast  instead  of  the  back. 
Your  son,  has  ruined  the  family  record,  for  he  was  shot 
in  the  back." 

After  thirty  days,  I  started  to  the  army,  then  in 
North  Carolina,.  At  Montgomery,  all  the  men  return- 
ing from  hospitals,  on  expired  furloughs,  were  halted 
to  meet  Wilson's  Raid  that  swept,  almost  without  re- 
sistance, through  from  Mississippi  to  Georgia. 

After  an  all  night  job,  cutting  ropes  on  cotton  bales 
so  they'd  burn  easily,  we  were  sent  to  Girard  on  the 
Georgia  line.  All  day  we  were  piling  barrels  of  rosin 
and  fat  lightwood  under  the  bridges,  leading  over  the 
Chattahoochee  River  into  Columbus.  A  straight  ditch, 
dug  by  the  militia,  up  and  down  the  hill,  would  afford 
no  protection,  once  the  line  was  broken  at  the  top 
of  the  hill.  So  we  were  prepared  to  run  a  foot  race 
for  the  bridges,  if  the  line  should  break  and  break  it 
did,  at  the  first  fire. 

In  the  dark,  covered  bridge,  crowded  with  men  and 
horses,  there  was  danger  of  a  footman  being  knocked 
down  and  tramped  to  death,  so  instinctively,  every  fel- 
low reached  out  his  hand  and  steadied  himself  on  a 
comrade.  When  the  opening  of  the  bridge,  on  the  Co- 
lumbus side  was  reached,  it  was  light  enough  for  me 
to  be  impressed  at  sight  of  the  dark  clothes  my  com- 
panion wore.  I  thought  I  observed  others  with  dark 
clothes — The  truth  was,  some  of  the  Yanks  had  come 
over  the  bridge  with  us. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  bridge,  a  drunken  Confederate 
Cavalry  General  sat  on  a  horse,  pistol  in  hand,  swear- 
ing he'd  shoot  the  first  man  who  passed.    They  were 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  101 

passing-  in  a  stream,  but  he  was  too  drunk  to  know 
what  was  going  on.  On  either  side  of  him  was  a  can- 
non and  an  officer  threatening  to  fire  into  the  bridge, 
jammed  full  of  men.  Just  to  the  left,  the  iron  pickets 
came  down  from  a  magnificent  residence,  to  the  river, 
the  gate  was  locked.  I  shoved  my  gun  through,  and 
mounted  the  fence.  In  attempting  to  let  myself  down 
from  the  top,  a  sharp  iron  picket  passed  through  the 
seat  of  my  new  jeans  pants  and  there  I  was,  impaled 
between  the  heavens  and  the  earth. 

The  Yanks  had  set  fire  to  a  house  on  the  other  side, 
making  it  light  as  day,  and  were  firing  across  the  river 
at  the  fellows  who  were  fleeing  through  the  spa- 
cious grounds. 

To  be  killed  on  top  of  that  fence  was  too  horrible 
to  contemplate,  so  I  put  my  heels  against  the  railing 
and  grasped  the  top  of  the  rods  with  both  my  hands, 
pushed  backwards  and  with  a  crash  the  seat  of  my 
new  breeches  gave  way  and  I  came  down  face  fore- 
most to  the  ground.  As  I  came  out  into  the  street 
on  the  other  side,  I  found  the  Yankee  Cavalry  had 
crossed  the  river  above  and  were  passing  into  the 
city. 

So  I  took  an  outing  in  the  woods  for  two  weeks,  with 
a  squad  of  escapes. 

Returning  to  the  city,  a  sort  of  patrol  was  formed, 
until  we  heard  of  the  surrender. 

On  guard  duty  on  the  side-walk,  just  under  the  par- 
lor of  a  hotel  I  heard  a  choir  practicing  for  Sunday 
service.    The  song  was  : 

"Guide  me  Oh  thou  Great  Jehovah, 
Pilgrim  through  this  weary  land, 
I  am  weak,  but  Thou  art  Mighty 
Hold  me  with  Thy  powerful  hand." 


102  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

To  a  lone  soldier,  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night, 
the  sentiments  of  the  song,  were  likely  to  make  an 
impression  that  would  not  be  easily  effaced. 

Here  ended  my  three  years  of  soldier  life. 

The  story  is  briefly  told.  Nothing  very  startling,  or 
remarkable  in  it,  but  maybe  some  of  my  friends  will 
be  interested  and  learn  worth  while  lessons  from  it. 
Often  the  boys  would  ask  me  in  the  midst  of  hard- 
ships:  "Aren't  you  sorry  you  left  California?"  My 
uniform  answer  was  in  the  negative.  I  felt  conscious 
of  duty  done,  which  was  most  satisfying. 

When  the  boys  were  jolly  up  in  Georgia,  when  on  a 
long  march,  we  came  suddenly  on  the  wagon  train, 
where  our  rations  had  been  prepared,  we  broke  a  fast 
of  several  days  in  the  midst  of  an  awful  downpour  of 
rain.  The  boiled  beef  and  corn  bread  were  brought  to 
us  in  gunny  sacks,  as  wet  as  water  could  make  them. 
After  we  began  to  fill  up,  one  fellow  lifting  his  hand, 
shouted  in  a  startled  voice :  "Hush !  Listen !  Listen ! 
Every  one  stopped,  as  if  they  were  to  hear  some  great 
firing  in  the  distance,  when  he  remarked:  "Every 
time  Wash  Crumpton  swallows  I  hear  it  hit  his  heels." 

Another  said:  "Boys,  when  I  get  to  be  an  old  man, 
sitting  before  a  big  fire  in  a  big  arm  chair  and  my  lit- 
tle grand  children  are  crawling  over  me.  I  am  going 
to  tell  them  all  about  this  and  if  the  little  devils 
don't  cry,  I'll  wear  them  out." 

Another  said :  "Boys  if  they  ever  have  another  war, 
they  will  have  to  burn  the  w^oods  and  sift  the  ashes  to 
get  me." 

Not  many  days  after  the  Columbus  experience,  I 
walked  into  the  home  of  kinspeople  in  Lowndes  county, 
Avhere  I  met  a  warm  welcome. 

I  was  not  with  the  army  in  North  Carolina  when  it 
was  reorganized.  Stopping  in  Alabama,  I  didn't  see 
any  of  the  Mississippi  comrades  for  near  two  years. 
Sitting  by  the  fire  one  night,  my  brother-in-law  said. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  103 

"Well,  you  got  to  be  a  Lieutenant  before  the  war 
closed."  I  said:  *'How  is  that?  I  do  not  understand." 
Then  I  was  informed,  at  the  re-organization,  I  was 
made  a  Lieutenant  and  the  next  morning  the  Regi- 
ment was  marched  out  on  the  color  line  and  surrender- 
ed. The  news  of  my  promotion  was  slow  reaching  me 
and  the  honor  was  short  lived. 


"Nobody  can  make  Baptists  do  nothin'. "  I  was  be- 
fore an  Association  once,  urging  upon  them  something 
that  was  entirely  new  to  them,  when  a  preacher  in- 
terrupted with :  "Brother  Secretary,  don't  you  know 
nobody  can  make  a  Baptist  do  nothin'  ",  and  down  he 
sat  amid  the  chuckles  of  his  "do  nothin'  "  constituency. 
My  reply  was,  "You  are  entirely  correct,  my  brother, 
all  you  have  to  do  is  to  let  Baptists  alone  and  they 
will  attend  to  the  little  matter  of  "doin'  nothin',"  but 
can't  a  Baptist  shake  his  lazy  self  and  make  himself  do 
something?  Is  there  any  law,  human  or  divine,  to  pre- 
vent a  God-called  preacher,  sitting  down  with  the  re- 
generated membership  of  a  church  and  asking  them 
to  solenmly  resolve,  with  God's  help,  to  consecrate 
themselves  to  the  task  that  God  has  set  before  His 
people  ?  We  Baptists  have  been  too  much  afraid  some- 
thing was  going  to  happen.  We  have  been  afraid  we 
would  run  away  with  ourselves.  We  have  put  the  em- 
phasis on  the  holding-back  straps  and  the  shaft-band 
and  given  but  little  heed  to  the  hame-strings  and  the 
traces. 

"We  haven't  taken  on  the  load  that  God  and  human- 
ity would  put  upon  us.  Let's  load  up;  we  will  enjoy 
the  pulling  and  shout  when  we  get  to  the  top  of  the 
hill." 


Part  Four 
CALL  TO  THE  MINISTRY 

CHAPTER  1. 

Here  is  my  idea  of  GocPs  calls:  His  doors  are  of  the 
folding  variety.  He  doesn't  touch  a  button  for  the 
door  to  fly  wide  open,  but  He  opens  one  fold  after 
another.  The  process  may  extend  over  several  years 
and  many  factors  may  enter  in ;  it  w^as  that  way  with 
me. 

Mother's  call  and  Preacher's  Calls.  Somewhere  I 
have  suggested  that  my  mother  might  have  put  the 
first  thought  of  preaching  in  my  head.  My  cousin, 
Boardman  Hartwell  Crumpton,  two  years  my  senior, 
had  been  to  Howard  College  at  Marion,  and  one  sum- 
mer brought  back  with  him  to  Pleasant  Hill,  John 
Cain,  a  bright  young  preacher  companion.  I  heard 
them  as  they  preached  around  at  different  places.  Bor- 
die,  was  given  to  saying  things  to  boys  about  becom- 
ing preachers  and,  I  am  quite  sure  more  than  once  he 
made  suggestions  to  me.  People  generally  were  wild 
over  the  "boy  preachers,"  especially  over  Bordie. 

They  had  something  to  do  with  my  thoughts  of 
preaching,  but  I  remember  distinctly  how  such 
thoughts  were  quickly  dispelled  by  the  reflection  that 
I  could  never  hope  for  a  college  education,  such  as 
they  were  successfully  pursuing.  Through  all  the 
thoughtless  years  of  youth  in  California  and  in  the 
army,  I  loved  to  hear  preaching.  I  was  not  avowedly 
religious  in  the  army,  though  a  church  member  from 
my  thirteenth  year. 

When  I  returned  from  the  war  I  stopped  in  Lowndes 
County,  east  of  Farmersville,  with  two  widowed 
cousins.    Each  owned  about  a  dozen  slaves.    They  had 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  105 

rented  a  plantation  jointly  in  these  back  woods,  where 
the  Yanks,  should  they  come,  would  not  so  easily  find 
them.  The  crop  had  been  planted,  when  freedom  to 
the  slaves  came.  I  became  a  sort  of  overseer,  worker 
and  protector,  getting  for  my  services  in  the  fall  a  few 
dollars  and  a  pony,  the  first  property  I  ever  owned. 

Now  I  come  to  the  preachers  who  entered  into  my 
life.  The  Yankees,  overrunning  Missisippi,  many  of 
the  fine  people  of  that  State  had  refugeed  into  Ala- 
bama, bringing  their  stock  and  slaves  with  them. 
Among  these  was  Rev.  T.  N.  Walne,  a  handsome  fel- 
low, a  good  preacher,  and  I  guess  a  pretty  good  far- 
mer. He  settled  in  Dallas,  renting  the  old  Crumpton 
plantation  and  became  pastor  of  a  field.  Pleasant  Hill 
being  one  of  his  churches.  The  "protracted  meeting 
season,"  as  the  months  of  July  and  August  were  gen- 
erally called,  came  on,  and  I  was  a  faithful  attendant 
at  many  of  them.  Most  of  the  people,  the  crops  being 
"laid  by,"  attended.  The  young  folks  were  there  in 
droves,  as  such  occasions  were  much  like  picnics, 
sumptuous  dinners  being  served.  Cotton  was  bringing 
50  cents  a  pound.  Much  of  it,  belonging  to  the 
Confederate  government  was  run  ofif  by  citizens  and 
returned  soldiers  and  sold  at  big  prices.  They  justi- 
fied their  action  on  the  ground,  the  Confederacy  owed 
them,  and  the  cotton  would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
Yanks  if  they  did  not  seize  it.  Money  was  plentiful 
as  long  as  the  cotton  money  lasted.  While  protracted 
meetings  were  not  all  they  ought  to  have  been,  they 
served  as  a  great  restraining  force  and  saved  the  peo- 
ple from  going  wild.  Brother  Walne  was  much  in  de- 
mand. Popular  for  his  ability  and  his  fine  personality, 
great  crowds  filled  the  churches. 

B.  H,  Crumpton,  leaving  college  before  graduation, 
brought  home  with  him  a  beautiful  bride.  Miss  Ral- 
lie  Armstrong,  the  adopted  daughter  of  Dr.  Talbird, 
the  president  of  How^ard  College.  He  settled  on  his 


106  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

plantation  and  became  one  of  the  most  popular  preach- 
er in  the  territory. 

After  the  refugee  preachers  returned  to  their  Mis- 
sisippi  homes,  Bordie  was  in  great  demand.  A  ready 
speaker,  an  optimist,  tender  and  affectionate,  he  was 
admired  and  loved  by  everybody.  Among  his  first  ser- 
mons was  one  on  ^'Christ's  Second  Coming."  I  do  not 
remember  whether  he  was  a  "post"  or  a  "pre"-mil- 
lennialist,  but  he  put  the  people  to  talking  and  they'd 
go  miles  to  hear  him.  The  "boy"  preacher  had  the 
boldness  to  declare  the  fulfillment  of  prophesy  and  to 
venture  a  look  into  the  future.  This  became  a  fasci- 
nation for  him   and  a  charm  to  the   people. 

It  grew  upon  him  to  the  end  of  his  days.  Old  friends, 
whenever  his  name  is  mentioned,  talk  of  him  in  a  most 
affectionate  way  and  mention  the  times  they  had  heard 
him  on  his  favorite  theme  in  the  family  circle  or  in 
the  pulpit.  His  passion  for  evangelism  made  him  ex- 
tremely popular  for  holding  meetings.  I  guess  he 
baptized  as  many  converts  as  any  man  in  the  State. 
Owning  a  good  plantation,  with  slaves  enough  to  take 
care  of  it,  it  was  easy  for  him  to  give  much  time  to 
holding  meetings. 

Added  to  his  accomplishments  as  a  preacher,  he  was 
a  good  singer  and  one  of  the  best  violinists  I  ever  heard. 
I  had  many  arguments  with  him  against  giving  up  the 
viohn,  but  he  was  conscientious  and  yielded  to  the 
idea  that  "fiddling"  didn't  become  a  preacher  of  the 
gospel.  "It  put  dancing  in  the  young  people's  heads," 
he  would  say.  The  sweetest  and  most  worshipful 
music,  to  my  mind,  comes  from  the  violin,  especially 
in  his  hands.  Besides  country  fields  in  the  beginning 
of  his  ministry,  he  served  Greenville,  Evergreen,  Brew- 
ton,  Palmetto  Street,  Mobile,  and  a  church  in  Texas 
for  a  time. 

He  was  a  bom  lover  of  the  soil  and  it  was  not  hard 
for  him  to  persuade  himself,  his  health  needed  the  ex- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  107 

ercise  and  open  air  he  could  get  on  the  farm.  His  last 
years  were  spent  on  his  farm,  serving  such  churches  as 
were  in  his  reach. 

It  was  a  great  grief  to  a  host  of  friends  when  the 
news  went  out  that  he  was  no  more. 

I  suppose  all  the  preaching  of  the  men  mentioned 
and  the  meetings  attended,  the  year  the  war  closed  had 
their  influence  in  making  me  a  preacher,  but  it  re- 
mained for  an  humble  country  preacher,  Jonathan  Bell, 
in  a  dozen  words,  to  jar  the  fruit  from  its  stem. 

CHAPTER  2. 

This  is  the  way  it  happened:  During  the  Georgia 
Campaign,  a  year  before,  when  Joe  Johnson  was  fall- 
ing back  before  Sherman,  every  stop  we  made,  the 
boys  would  say",  **01d  Joe  is  going  to  fight  it  out  here 
boys."  Maybe  the  next  night  we'd  steal  away  and 
three  or  four  miles  farther  South,  begin  the  erec- 
tion of  a  new  line  of  breastworks. 

Late  one  afternoon,  we  had  received  orders  to  cook 
three  days'  rations  and  be  ready  to  move  at  daybreak. 
It  was  raining,  the  cooking  had  to  be  done  by  each 
mess  before  a  log-heap  fire.  Having  much  to  do 
with  the  cooking,  it  was  late  in  the  night  when  I  was 
ready  to  retire.  It  seemed  to  me  every  man  was  asleep 
in  the  camp,  when  I  heard  my  name  called:  it  was  the 
mail  carrier.  He  gave  me  a  letter  from  a  loving  sister. 
I  stooped  over  the  letter,  so  my  body  would  shield 
it  from  the  rain  and  by  the  very  dim  light,  I  caught 
something  like  this : 

"Bud,  I  am  praying  for  you  every  wakeful  mo- 
ment. If  you  are  ever  shot  down  in  battle,  remem- 
ber this."  I  folded  the  letter,  and  slipped  it  in  my 
pocket.  The  reader  can  imagine  the  feelings  of  any 
sane,  serious  man,  under  the  conditions  surrounding 
me.     We  knew  Sherman  had  probably  three  men  to 


108  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

our  one ;  we  believed  old  Joe  was  going  to  stop  here ; 
we  were  sure  the  next  morning  was  the  time. 

I  quietly  left  the  camp  and,  out  of  hearing  of  any- 
body, by  the  side  of  a  great  old  pine,  to  shield  me 
from  the  falling  rain,  I  prayed.  I  called  upon  the  an- 
gels to  witness  my  vow.  I  promised  God,  if  life  were 
spared  and  I  returned  home,  my  whole  life  should  be 
given  to  His  service  in  whatever  field  He  might  open 
for  me. 

Somehow  I  was  mighty  comfortable  in  my  feelings 
after  the  prayer.  I  returned  to  the  camp,  to  fall  down 
on  the  wet  ground,  wrapped  in  my  wet  blanket. 

God  spared  me.  I  returned  to  loved  ones.  Every- 
where, the  soldiers  were  handed  'round  on  silver  plat- 
ters. Then  came  the  protracted  meetings,  when 
the  young  people  gathered  to  listen  respectfully  to 
the  forenoon  service,  partake  of  the  rich  bounty  pro- 
vided and  to  plan  for  the  pleasures  of  the  next  day,  or 
the  next  meeting.  Many  of  us  were  serious  after  a 
fashion.  I,  with  many  others,  yielded  to  the  persua- 
sion of  friends  and  asked  the  people  of  God  for  their 
prayers.  Many  reached  a  conclusion  and  joined  the 
churches.  I  was  already  a  member,  but  for  nine  years, 
or  more,  had  been  so  only  nominally. 

I  had  arranged  with  some  young  friends  from  Snow 
Hill,  to  meet  them  at  Old  Mt.  Moriah  meeting,  near 
Monterey.  I  was  late  in  getting  there ;  everybody 
was  in  the  house  and  the  preacher  was  in  the  pulpit. 
I  entered,  by  a  side  door,  in  full  view  of  the  most  of 
the  congregation.  As  I  reached  down,  to  put  my 
hat  under  the  seat  in  front,  I  heard  the  preacher  say: 

"I  will  pay  thee  my  vows  which  my  lips  have  ut- 
tered and  my  mouth  hath  spoken  when  I  was  in  trou- 
ble." I  never  heard  it  before ;  I  didn't  know  the  Bible 
contained  such  words.  A  bolt  out  of  a  clear  sky, 
wouldn't  have  been  more  surprising  to  me.  I  never 
lifted  my  eyes ;  I  saw  not  a  soul.     The  vision  of  the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  109 

praying  boy,  that  dark,  rainy  night,  and  his  vow  by 
the  side  of  the  old  pine  tree,  flashed  before  me.  I  had 
forgotten  it  all,  till  that  moment.  I  didn't  release  my 
hold  on  my  hat ;  I  arose,  walked  out,  got  on  my  horse 
and  rode  away. 

From  that  moment  I  begsin  to  try  to  pay  that  vow. 
It  has  been  poorly  done,  I  am  ashamed  of  much  of  it, 
but  through  all  eternity  I  shall  bless  God  for  Jona- 
than Bell's  few  words  that  awakened  me  from  my 
dreams.  Those  young  friends,  probably  all  of  them 
now  dead,  never  knew  why  I  so  suddenly  disappeared, 
unless  some  of  them  heard  me  relate  it  in  a  sermon  af- 
terwards. 

I  didn't  venture  so  far  as  to  announce  my  purpose  to 
preach,  but 

I  surrendered  to  God  for  service  and  so  let  my 
friends  at  Pleasant  Hill  know. 

Soon  after  that,  late  in  the  fall  of  1865,  I  removed 
to  Mississippi,  joining  my  old  father  and  sisters. 

My  boyish  ways  and  returned  soldiers'  hilarity 
possessed  me  still,  and  one  would  not  have  picked  me 
out  for  a  probable  preacher.  My  move  to  Mississippi 
put  me  on  a  farm  where  I  kept  bach. 

I  resolved  to  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  and  pray 
before  retiring,  every  night. 

Occasionally  my  sister  was  with  me,  and  my  old 
father  sometimes.  Of  course,  they  were  glad  to  see 
my  change  in  life.  Several  of  my  old  army  chums 
were  my  guests  one  night.  I  had  a  great  struggle 
with  Satan  to  carry  out  my  purpose,  but  I  overcame. 
Of  course,  the  boys  talked  it,  that  I  was  going  to  be 
a  preacher.  Later,  a  little  Sunday  School  was  organ- 
ized at  Garlandsville  and  I  was  made  Superintend- 
ent.    That  brought  on  more  talk. 

John  Latimore,  my  pastor,  persisted  in  calling  on 
me  after  his  sermon  every  preaching  day,  to  close 
with  prayer. 


110  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

The  negroes  on  the  farm,  knowing  I  had  prayer 
every  night,  asked  that  I  read  to  them  once  a  week, 
when  they  had  prayer  meeting.  Of  course  I  did  it. 
Then  the  old  leader  asked  if  I  wouldn't  comment  on 
the  Scripture.     I  did  that. 

Then  the  fire  began  to  bum.  Like  a  stone  wall, 
the  impossibility  of  an  education  stood  before  me  at 
every  thought  of  preaching.  I  was  bothered ;  the 
conviction  pursued  me ;  it  would  not  down. 

Finally,  one  day,  when  plowing,  I  drove  my  mule 
into  the  jam  of  the  fence,  went  out  into  the  woods  and, 
under  a  crab-apple  tree,  settled  it  with  God. 

Education  or  no  education;  I  would  preach.  Great 
satisfaction  came  to  me  then.  I  was  a  subscriber  to 
the  Baptist  Watchman  printed  at  Meridian.  In  a 
little  while,  a  statement  was  printed  there,  that  Jerry 
Brown,  of  Alabama,  who  before  the  War  had  helped 
in  the  education  of  many  young  preachers  at  Howard 
College,  would  take  up  the  work  again  and  wanted 
to  get  in  communication  with  a  dozen  or  more  young 
men. 

I  took  it;  God  was  opening  the  way  to  me.  I  wrote 
the  editor  asking  about  it.  Weeks  passed  before  I 
heard  anything.  In  September,  a  letter  came  telling  me. 
he  had  investigated  the  matter  of  Brown's  proposition 
and  found  it  Avas  a  mistake ;  but,  if  I  felt  the  Lord 
wanted  me  to  preach,  he  would  see  me  at  Garlands- 
ville  in  October  at  the  meeting  of  the  General  Asso- 
ciation, and  we'd  talk  it  over. 

I  found  out  later,  much  of  the  time,  he  had  taken  up 
investigating  me  by  corresponding  with  John  Lati- 
mer, my  pastor.  I  had  noticed  a  very  tender  solici- 
tude on  the  part  of  the  pastor  for  me,  but  had  no 
dream  he  had  found  out  my  secret,  until  he  mentioned 
it  to  me  as  the  time  for  the  meeting  approached.  He 
broke  the  news  to  my  church  and  I  was  licensed  to 
preach. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  Ill 

CHAPTER  3. 

Then  it  was  J.    B.    Hamberlin   came   into   my   life. 

I  ought  to  remember  more  about  the  meeting  of 
the  General  Association.  It  was  a  notable  event  in 
that  section.  I  guess,  my  mind  was  wholly  absorbed 
with  the  visit  of  the  editor  of  the  Watchman.  An 
after  acquaintance  with  some  of  the  leaders  of  the 
General  Association,  makes  me  doubt  if  they  were  at 
all  hearty  in  the  plan  of  the  young  preacher,  going 
away  to  college.  The  General  Association,  became 
the  opposition  State  organization  to  the  Mississippi 
Baptist  Convention.  All  sorts  of  trouble  about  mis- 
sions and  education  were  sprung  with  the  two  bodies. 
Brothers  N.  L.  Clark  and  William  Thigpen,  were  the 
leaders  of  the  General  Association.  They  were  as 
good  men  as  the  Lord  ever  made,  but  they  were  sus- 
picious of  everything  new  or  progressive.  Every 
age  has  known  men  like  them  and  every  State,  espec- 
ially in  the  South,  has  been  retarded  by  their  opposi- 
tion. 

But,  after  all,  perhaps,  it  is  a  part  of  God's  great  plan. 
Patience  and  forbearance,  we  need  in  the  great  work 
of  God.  Cock-suredness,  is  one  of  the  faults  of  some 
great  leaders  and  ruin  would  come  if  they  were  not 
restrained.  The  brakes  are  put  on  by  an  opposer,  the 
leaders  are  fretted  and  maybe  later,  are  quite  convinced 
theirs  was  not  the  best  way. 

I  learned  that  the  Howard  buildings  at  Marion,  had 
been  so  abused  by  the  Federal  troops,  who  had  occu- 
pied them,  there  was  no  prospect  of  opening  its  doors. 
Mississippi  College  at  Clinton,  was  similarly  situated. 
But  Brother  Hamberlin  had  found  that 

Georgetown  College,  Kentucky,  had  secured  N.  M. 
Crawford  of  Georgia,  as  President,  and  was  in  good 
condition,  and  so  the  decision  was  that  I  should  go 
there.    The  sale  of  my  pony  and  getting  together  all  I 


112  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

could  scrape,  would  about  buy  my  clothes  and  pay  my 
way  to  Georgetown. 

The  first  call  put  in  the  Watchman,  after  the  war  for 
aid  for  a  young  preacher,  was  in  behalf  of  this  ''un- 
worthy dust."     But  there  was  more  trouble  ahead. 

Then  came  the  examination  at  Jackson,  led  by  The- 
odore Whitfield,  a  finished  scholar  and  theologian.  I 
was  near  twenty-five  years  of  age,  had  learned  some  in 
school  and  absorbed  lots  from  travel  and  being  in  the 
army,  but  my  education  was  wretchedly  defective,  es- 
pecially was  I  densely  ignorant  about  the  Bible.  Whit- 
field persisted  in  saying,  I  should  know  something 
about  the  Bible,  and  he  certainly  was  right.  After  two 
or  three  questions  and  most  unsatisfactory  answers,  I 
confessed  my  ignorance  and  probably  suggested  it 
would  be  best  to  go  back  to  the  plow  for  a  year  and 
prepare  myself  somewhat  for  the  examination,  which 
I  did  not  know  awaited  me,  or  I  would  never  have 
come.  But  good  Brother  Hamberlin  interceded.  I 
do  not  recall  it  all  now,  but  they  gave  me  somewhat 
of  a  paper  and  I  went  on,  reaching  Georgetown — 
in  the  holidays  of  1867.  In  every  examination  of  young 
preachers,  through  the  years,  I  have  had  a  deep  and 
abiding  interest  in  the  ignorant,  young  fellows,  but  I 
have  had  too,  a  great  leaning  to  Whitfield's  viewpoint, 
a  young  preacher  should  know  something  about  the 
Bible.  We  have  greatly  suffered  on  account  of  care- 
lessness in  the  matter  of  examinations,  and  requiring 
nothing  but  that  the  applicant  felt  he  ought  to  preach. 

At  Georgetown,  with  the  exception  of  one  man, 
among  the  young  preachers,  I  had  the  advantage  as  to 
age  and  experience,  but  the  last  one  of  them  had  me 
down,  as  to  a  knowledge  of  books. 

Bifother  Hamberlin  was  a  brother  right.  I  have 
some  of  his  letters  now.  How  they  cheered  me  and 
how  he  whooped  up  friends  to  help  me !     I  have  a  list 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  113 

of  their  names,  the  churches  to  which  they  belonged, 
and  the  amounts  they  gave.  Meridian,  First  Church, 
of  which  Brother  HamberHn  was  pastor,  more  than 
once  responded. 

J.  B.  HamberHn  coining  into  my  life  was  a  great 
thing  for  me.  He  was  a  scholar,  a  perfect  gentleman, 
deeply  pious,  with  a  persuasive,  convincing  voice  and 
energy  that  never  lagged.  By  some  means  he  had 
lost  an  eye,  which  was  a  great  handicap  to  him,  causing 
much  suffering  with  neuralgia. 

Later  when  I  was  pastor  in  Meridian,  he  was  doing 
the  work  of  his  life  on  the  Mississippi  coast.  Later, 
still,  when  I  became  Secretary  of  the  Bission  Board 
and  the  Healing  Springs  school  property  came  in  pos- 
session of  the  Baptist  Convention;  he  was  the  founder 
of  the  school  and  loved  it  as  a  fond  mother  loves  her 
child.  He  was  the  same  indomitable  worker  and  per- 
fect gentleman — a  bit  contentious  and  maybe  too  per- 
sistent, but  that  I  took  to  be,  because  of  age.  His 
death  was  sudden  and  horrible,  when  by  mistake  he 
took  from  a  phial  carbolic  acid,  instead  of  paregoric, 
or  some  harmless  drug. 

I  am  writing  about  my  call  to  the  ministry:  Where 
did  it  begin  and  where  end?  Maybe  it  began  with  my 
mothers'  words,  when  I  was  a  bit  of  a  child. 

God  was  opening  the  door,  fold  after  fold.  Was  it 
wide  open,  when  I  reached  Georgetown,  Ky.,  to  at- 
tend school,  or  on  January  30th,  1870,  at  Town  Creek 
Church,  when  W.  C.  Cleveland,  B.  H.  Crumpton  and 
T.  M.  Bailey  laid  their  hands  on  me  in  ordination?  My 
idea  is, 

God  kept  up  the  calling,  until  I  fully  answered.  I 
had  a  very  great  struggle  later.  This  is  the  way  I  tell 
it :  Living  on  my  farm  in  Dallas  County,  one  Sat- 
urday morning,  going  to  a  little  church  at  Rehoboth,  I 
rode  through  the  farm,  unexpectedly  to  the  negroes. 
Of  course,  they  were  doing  anything  else  than  what 


114  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

they  were  ordered  to  do ;  I  was  fretted.  On  my  way 
to  the  church,  I  mused  about  it  thus :  "I  am  trying 
to  preach  and  run  a  farm.  God  didn't  want  his  preach- 
ers to  be  harrassed  in  this  way;  the  farm  suffers  and 
the  preaching  much  more.  I  am  getting  no  satisfaction 
out  of  my  work  and  I  am  not  treating  the  churches 
right.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  leave  the  farm,  so, 
when  January  comes,  I  will  give  up  the  ministry  and 
so  announce  it  in  the  Alabama  Baptist."  I  tried  then, 
in  the  few  minutes  left  of  my  ride,  to  think  of  some- 
thing to  preach.  With  my  mind  all  confused,  I  was 
in  a  most  unhappy  mood. 

Among  those  who  came  into  the  church  was  Joe 
Bennie  Perkins,  from  McKinley.  As  clear,  as  if  some 
one  had  spoken  the  words,  the  thought  came  into  my 
mind:  "His  coming  has  something  to  do  with  your 
thoughts  this  morning."  He  was  the  first  to  reach 
me  after  the  sermon,  with  a  letter  from  the  old  Pastor, 
L.  L.  Fox.  It  ran  about  this  way :  "I  will  never  be 
able  to  leave  my  room  again ;  I  have  resigned  here 
and  the  church  at  my  suggestion,  has  called  you  for 
two  Sundays  in  the  month.  Come  down  tomorrow  and 
accept  the  care  of  this  fine  flock."  I  returned  home 
that  night,  promising  to  be  at  McKinley  Sunday  night. 
They  gave  me  a  hearty  greeting  and  the  old  pastor 
gave  me  a  blessing.  I  left  an  appointment  for  the  next 
month.  When  starting  again,  in  August,  I  suggested 
to  the  good  wife,  that  she  put  in  enough  clothes  to  do 
for  ten  days,  for  I  might  remain  in  a  meeting.  While 
jogging  along,  my  mind  was  much  on  the  question  that 
had  been  disturbing  me  so  long.    I  thought  of 

The  Way  One  Man  Settled  It.  He  was  an  eccen- 
tric preacher  in  Kentucky.  He  told  the  story  of 
his  call  about  this  way :  ''I  wanted  to  preach, 
but  Mahala  wouldn't  give  her  consent.  I  be- 
lieved I  was  called  and  she  didn't.  It  bothered  m^e 
much,  so  one  day  while  I  was  plowing,  I  drove  my  nag 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  115 

to  the  end  of  the  row  and  got  down  in  the  furrow 
on  my  knees  and  said:  "Lord  come  this  way,  I  want 
to  make  a  contract  with  you.  You  know  how  things 
is  at  my  house  :  I  beheve  you  have  called  me  to  preach 
and  Mahala  don't  believe  it.  I  want  to  settle  it  right 
here  with  you,  so  there  will  be  no  doubt  about  it : 
Here's  my  proposition :     I  will  lay  by  my  crop  good 

and  clean,  then  I'll  go  down  to  old 

Church  and  run  a  meetin'.  You  know  they  ain't  had 
a  preacher  for  two  years  and  the  old  house  is  in  a 
mighty  bad  fix.  Now  Lord,  if  you  want  me  to  preach, 
show  it  by  convertin'  14  souls  and  make  the  brethren 
pay  me  for  my  services,  for  you  have  said  'the  la- 
borer is  worthy  of  his  hire.'  I  went  home  and  told 
Mahala  about  the  contract  and  she  said,  if  the  Lord 
converted  anybody  under  my  preachin'  she'd  give  in. 
Well  sir,  I  went,  got  all  the  people  in  the  neighbor- 
hood together  and  held  the  meetin':  the  Lord  convert- 
ed more  than  the  contract  called  for,  the  brethren 
made  up  a  nice  purse  and  raised  the  money  to  fix  the 
old  house.  There  has  never  been  any  doubt  at  my 
house  since,  on  the  question  of  my  bein'  called."  When 
I  had  run  all  that  through  my  mind,  I  asked:  "What 
is  the  matter  with  his  way  of  settling  the  ques- 
tion? Don't  God  challenge  us  to  try  him?  That  is 
exactly  what  he  did."  So,  without  getting  off  my 
horse  and  down  on  my  knees 

I  asked  God  to  let  the  meeting^  I  was  going  to,  be  the 
test  with  me. 

I  found  myself  strangely  submissive  and  really  hap- 
py over  the  prospect  of  the  final  settlement  of  the  vex- 
ed question.  The  people  knew  not  a  word  of  my  plans 
for  the  meeting.  I  announced  from  day  to  day  about 
its  continuance  ;  so  it  went  on  for  ten  days,  without 
the  least  excitement  "and  the  Lord  added  daily  the 
saved."     IMiss   Willie   Kelly,   for  27  years,  our   great 


116  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

woman  Missionary  in  Shanghai,  China,  with  her  mo- 
ther, being  among  those  baptized. 

The  question  as  to  the  will  of  the  Lord  concerning 
me,  was  forever  settled  after  the  close  of  the  McKin- 
ley  meeting. 

It  was  just  like  the  Lord,  to  soon  open  the  way  for 
me  to  give  myself  wholly  to  the  ministry. 

It  was  like  beginning  a  new  life  to  me — at  last  all 
the  folds  of  the  door  were  open  and  I  could  see  my  duty 
clearly  and  joyfully  enter  the  wide  open  door. 

Was  all  this  in  the  call  of  God  to  the  ministry? 
Well,  maybe  not  in  His  Call,  but  in  His  calling — His 
continued  calling.  He  called  at  the  start,  but  my  full 
answer  never  came  until  the  meeting  at  M. 

One  thing  I  know,  the  ministry  meant  more  to  me 
than  ever  before.  Before  that,  going  to  my  appoint- 
ment was  like  filling  a  business  engagement  and  hur- 
rying away  to  other  business.  Oh,  the  joy  of  the  new 
life  ;  I  can  never  forget  it. 

My  Secularized  Brother,  I  am  sorry  for  you.  How 
much  you  are  missing! 

How  the  work  is  suffering,  because  of  your  half- 
hearted service ! 


Part  Five 

PERIOD  IN  THE  MINISTRY 

CHAPTER  I. 

I  was  licensed  in  1866  at  Garlandsville,  Miss.,  but  I 
might  say,  my  ministry  began  in  1868,  when  a  stu- 
dent at  Georgetown,  Kentucky. 

Long  Lick  was  the  church,  down  in  the  hills,  a  dozen 
miles  away,  where  all  the  young  preachers  broke  in. 
A.  C.  Davidson  and  I,  by  whose  suggestion  I  do  not 
know,  became  co-pastors,  each  once  a  month,  our  only 
compensation  being  the  pay  of  the  horse  hire  at  the 
stable.  I  did  not  continue  long,  but  Davy,  as  the  boys 
called  him,  remained  quite  a  bit.  At  the  suggestion  of 
J.  W.  Waldrop,  of  Owen  Co.,  to  whom  I  had  given 
out  my  purpose  not  to  return  to  college  in  the  fall  of 
'69,  I  was  employed  as  a  missionary  for  three  months 
in  the  Ten  Mile  Association  in  Galatin  Co.  Poor  fool- 
ish boy — rather  man^  for  I  was  then  twenty-seven 
years  old — to  quit  college,  knowing  so  little — the  mis- 
take of  my  life!  I  had  succeeded,  as  a  teacher  and  had 
turned  down  a  fine  offer  in  a  splendid  neighborhood  to 
teach.  I  was  firm  in  the  conviction,  I  must  preach. 
Waldorp,  a  strong  country  preacher,  believed  in  me 
enough  to  recommend  me.  I  shouldn't  have  thought 
of  becoming  a  missionary,  but  for  him.  He  agreed 
to  go  with  me  and  hold  a  few  meetings. 

The  Association  was  small,  probably  twelve  or  fif- 
teen churches,  the  time  only  three  months,  closing 
about  Christmas.  It  has  been  so  long — fifty  years — I 
cannot  recall  many  things,  but  I  remember,  good  meet- 
ings were  held  in  all  the  churches  and  the  results  were 
most  satisfactory  to  the  Executive  Committee. 


118  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

My  field  was  along  the  Ohio  River,  below  Cincinnati. 
The  meetings  were  in  the  depth  of  winter, 
with  snow  and  ice  everywhere.  A  brother,  who  came 
down  into  the  hills  to  Paint  Lick  Church  to  preach 
for  me  on  Saturday  night  and  baptize,  (I  had  not  been 
ordained)  my  ten  or  a  dozen  candidates  next  morning 
in  the  icy  waters  of  the  Ohio  River,  asked,  "What  have 
you  been  preaching  to  these  people?*'  My  reply  was, 
"I  haven't  preached  sermons  at  all."  (Truth  is  I  had 
none  to  preach.)  "I  have  just  been  reading  Bible  in- 
cidents to  them,  trying  to  tell  them  the  meaning,  and 
to  impress  them  that  they  were  not  living  right." 
The  best  practical  preparation  for  the  work  I 
was  to  follow  later,  came  to  me  in  the  three  months  in 
the  old  Ten  Mile  Association. 

Probably  it  was  the  first  meeting  we  were  to  hold, 
as  we  were  hitching  our  horses,  I  called  Waldrop's  at- 
tention to  the  song  they  were  singing  in  the  house : 
"Afflictions  though  they  seem  severe  are  oft  in  mercy 
sent :"  whereupon  the  preacher  said,  in  almost  a  de- 
spairing tone :  "Do  you  suppose  you  will  ever  be  seri- 
ous enough  to  make  a  preacher?" 

My  strong  attachment  for  my  home  State,  though  I 
hadn't  been  much  in  it  for  near  eight  years,  caused  me 
to  turn  down  several  offers,  and  return  to  Alabama  in 
the  midst  of  the  holidays  of  '69.  My  cousin,  B.  H. 
Crumpton,  had  induced  Providence,  Shiloh  and  New 
Bethel  (Braggs)  to  call  me — none  had  ever  heard 
me,  and  not  a  half  dozen  had  ever  seen  me. 

This  was  a  new  school  the  Lord  was  putting  me  in. 
New  Bethel  church  was  near  40  miles  from  me  and  I 
gave  it  up  after  one  year.  Shiloh,  with  its  three  male 
members  and  probably  a  half  dozen  sisters  and  maybe 
two  hundred  colored  members,  I  continued  with  for 
two  years.  One  notable  thing  done  there  was  the 
peaceable  settling  of  the  colored  members  into  a  church 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  119 

of  their  own,  the  whites  generously  helping  in  the 
erection  of  their  building. 

As  a  matter  of  history,  it  ought  to  be  re- 
corded. The  Freedmen's  Bureau,  established  at  Selma 
by  the  Federal  authorities,  did  outrageous  things  and 
were  suspected  of  putting  it  into  the  heads  of  the  Bap- 
tist negroes  that,  where  they  were  in  the  majority, 
as  they  were  in  all  the  churches  in  the  Black  Belt,  they 
had  a  right  to  exclude  the  whites  and  take  possession 
of  the  property.  That  rumor  reaching  the  little 
church  at  Shiloh,  caused  them  to  hasten  the  action 
recorded  above.  The  Southern  whites  proved  them- 
selves a  long  suffering  people  to  have  borne  so  w^ell 
the  doings  of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau. 

"Hold  what  you  have,"  has  been  the  motto  of  the 
State  Board  of  Missions  of  Alabama  from  the  start ; 
the  incident  of  Shiloh  suggesting  it.  A  great  old 
country  church  it  is  today.  When  it  had  dwindled  and 
everything  looked  like  ruin,  it  was  held  together  hop- 
ing for  better  days,  and  the  better  days  came.  Saving 
Shiloh  was  worth  while.  That  was  before  the  day  of 
State  Boards,  but  hundreds  of  churches  were  saved  by 
the  Board  pursuing  the  Shiloh  policy. 

Providence,  the  remaining  church  of  my  first  pasto- 
rate, became  my  home  and  the  sw^eetest  memories  of 
my  life  cluster  about  it  and  the  dozen  or  more  years 
I  was  its  pastor.  Though  the  church  was  isolated,  the 
young  pastor  determined,  and  so  announced  to  his 
people,  they  should  hear  the  best  preachers  of  the 
States.  He  tried  to  be  like  the  good  mother,  who  is 
always  thinking  of  her  children,  and  how  she  may  find 
good  things  for  them.  First  and  last,  they  heard  the 
best  preachers  in  reach  of  them. 

Probably  the  greatest  occasion  came  when  the  Bap- 
tist Rally  wais  bom.     This  is  the  way  it  came  about: 

I  had  been  in  the  habit  of  visiting  some  Associations 
in  the  fall,  for  Secretary  Bailey.    I  said  to  one  or  two 


120  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

of  my  members,  "My  old  friends,  J.  M.  Frost  and  A.  C. 
Davidson  have  suddenly  dropped  down  in  our  State 
and  Association.  We  have  been  widely  separated  for 
fifteen  years.  After  the  Associations  are  over,  perhaps 
in  December,  I  am  going  to  have  them  spend  three 
days  in  the  middle  of  the  week  at  my  home."  One  of 
them,  Ben  Ellis,  said,  "That  looks  selfish.  Why  not 
have  them  here  at  the  church,  and  let  all  of  us  be  with 
them?"  A  meeting  in  December  was  unheard  of,  but 
I  at  once  agreed  to  the  suggestion.  Later  I  suggest- 
ed, "It  would  be  pleasant  for  these  new  men  to  meet 
other  preachers.  If  you  will  see  that  their  expenses 
are  paid,  1*11  invite  them."  That  was  agreed  to,  a 
program  was  arranged,  covering 

Subjects,  radiating-  from  Providence  to  the  rim  of 
the  world.  The  Lord  was  in  it.  It  rained  the  first  day, 
and  every  day,  but  only  at  night,  or  after  we  reached 
the  church  in  the  morning.  Every  day  we  had  din- 
ner on  the  ground  and  the  house  was  packed.  One 
night,  all  the  preachers,  perhaps  a  dozen,  were  in  my 
home. 

Old  Deacon  C.  M.  Cochran,  long  the  pillar  of  the 
church,  whose  daughter  was  the  pastor's  wife,  testi- 
fied that  night,  "This  is  the  best  meeting  I  ever 
attended  in  all  my  long  life."  He  was  given  strength 
to  attend  every  day.  It  was  the  last  meeting  with 
him.  The  expenses  of  the  brethren  were  paid  and 
that  became  a  precedent.  As  long  as  I  was  pastor,  no 
preacher  ever  came  there  without  his  expenses  being 
paid,  at  least. 

That  programme  of  the  Baptist  Rallies,  with  slight 

alterations,    for   twenty-five   years,   was    before    the 

Bapitsts  of  every  part  of  the  State.     What    a    story 

could  be   written   of   it,   if   all   the   threads   could  be 

gotten  together: 

I  had  a  way  of  writing  for  the  newspapers — a  habit 
I  have  kept  up.    I  wrote  about  the  bad  roads  in  Dallas 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  121 

County  and  criticized  the  over-seers  for  rushing  out, 
just  before  the  Grand  Jury  met,  throwing  a  few  brush 
in  the  washed  places  and  dragging  a  Httle  loose  dirt 
in  and  calling  that,  a  road  working.  Generally  it  took 
a  day  and  a  half  to  finish  the  job,  while  the  law  allowed 
ten  days  each  year,  if  necessary.  The  boys  thought 
they  were  playing  a  good  joke  on  me  to  have  the 
commissioners  throw  two  roads  together,  making 
about  four  miles  with  fifty  hands  and  making  me  over- 
seer. One  of  the  commissioners  said,  "We  did  it  to 
please  the  boys,  if  it  interferes  with  your  work  as  a 
minister,  we  will  let  you  off."  My  reply  was,  "The 
boys  couldn't  have  pleased  me  better.  I  never  was 
on  the  road  in  my  life,  but  I  believe  I  can  give  them 
a  pattern  of  road  building,  they  never  will  forget." 
Along  in  the  spring  I  called  my  hands  out,  ran  over 
the  whole  distance  in  one  day.  I  told  the  two  or  three 
white  men,  I'd  take  any  sort  of  substitute  they'd  send 
me,  I  wanted  all  negroes.  After  the  first  day  I  made 
a  speech  something  Hke  this:  "We  are  all  farmers. 
If  you  insist  on  my  sticking  to  the  letter  of  the  law, 
I'll  give  you  three  day's  notice  and  call  you  when  I 
please,  regardless  of  crop  conditions;  but  if  you  will 
all  leave  it  to  me,  I  will  wait  until  it  is  too  wet  to  work 
in  the  field,  then  send  you  word  and  we'll  get  out,  wet 
weather  is  the  best  time  for  road  working."  With- 
out a  dissenting  voice  they  agreed  to  my  suggestion. 
When  we  "laid  by"  and  a  good  wet  spell  came,  we 
made  a  finish.  It  was  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
the  country,  the  road  had  been  worked.  I  mention  this, 
not  to  boast,  but  as  an  illustration  of  how  I  think,  a 
preacher  ought  to  lay  hold  and  help  where  he  can. 
There*s  a  lot  of  good  religion  in  good  roads.  They 
are  a  blessing  to  man  and  beast  and  what  a  saving! 

He  is  another  illustration: 

I  believe  in  the  organization  of  Farmers.  The  world 
must  depend  upon  them,  but  they  are  the  most  de- 


122  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

frauded  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  largely  be- 
cause of  their  ignorance  and  their  inability  to  organ- 
ize their  forces. 

I  joined  the  Grange.  I  had  traveled  much,  had  been 
fairly  observant  about  improved  stock  and  advanced 
farm  methods.  I  was  called  upon  for  a  speech :  **For 
the  Good  of  the  Order."  The  speech  was  something 
like  this:  "Sauntering  along  a  Kentucky  pike  on  a 
Saturday  morning,  when  I  was  in  school,  I  saw  ve- 
hicles turning  into  a  wood,  where  was  a  gathering  of 
people.  I  turned  in  and  found  it  to  be  a  three  days 
neighborhood  fair,  which  they  called :  "The  World's 
Fair."  Probably  eight  hundred  people  were  present. 
Everything  grown  on  the  farm  was  on  exhibition. 

A  small  speed-ring  was  there  to  exhibit  the  horses. 
While  racing  was  not  in  it,  because  of  the  very  small 
ring,  one  boy  challenged  another  and  in  the  ring  they 
went.  One  drove  an  old  grey  pacer  and  the  other  a 
fine  young  horse.  Old  grey  shot  off  in  good  style  and 
took  the  lead,  but  unfortunately,  a  hame  string  broke, 
and  the  sulky  and  driver  were  left  behind.  The  young 
horse  darted  by,  but  the  driver  of  old  grey,  gathered 
himself  up,  mounted  his  old  steed,  bare  back  and  won 
the  race,  amid  an  uproar  such  as  those  old  trees  had 
never  heard  before."  My  mention  of  the  race  was 
only  an  incident,  my  main  point  was  the  fadr.  I  had 
hardly  seated  myself,  before  an  enthusiastic,  intelli- 
gent member,  moved  the  appointment  of  a  commit- 
tee to  look  into  the  matter.  The  result  was  the  in- 
auguration of: 

The  West  Dallas  Agricultural  Fair  at  Orrville.  In 
every  particular  it  was  all  that  the  most  sanguine 
could  have  expected.  I  was  wonderfully  pleased  with 
the  programme,  except  the  premiums  oflFered  on 
horses.  Where  one  dollar  was  oft'ered  on  cattle,  hogs 
or  produce,  five  dollars  were  put  on  horses.  Of  course 
the  sports,  thus  encouraged,  took  possession.     I  at- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  123 

tended  the  first  day  and  washed  my  hands  of  the  whole 
business.  It  lasted  only  a  few  years  and  went  out  a 
bankrupt.  But  for  that  blunder,  which  nearly  always 
attends  fairs,  the  West  Dallas  Fair,  might  have  led 
forty  years  ago,  to  the  splendid  prosperity  that  section 
is  now  enjoying.  It  is  noted  for  its  thrift,  its  fine  hog 
and  cattle  industry.  I  know  of  nothing  better  for  a 
community  than  an  Agricultural  Fair,  if  the  sports 
and  crooks  can  be  ruled  out. 

The  Grange  ran  its  course  in  a  little  while,  after 
taking  a  twist  at  politics.  The  broken  down  politi- 
cians have  been  the  ruin  of  every  movement  of  the 
sort  among  the  farmers.  Because  I  believed  a  preach- 
er ought  to  have  an  abiding  interest  in  whatever  con- 
cerns the  people,  I  branched  out  later  on  Prohibition. 
Some  are  ambitious  for  leadership,  I  never  was.  Every 
step  of  the  way,  I  have  been  driven  along  all  through 
my  life,  because  I  felt.  Somebody  must  lead.  IMy 
friends  are  often  made  to  laugh  when  I  affirm,  "I  am 
a  timid  man,"  but  it  is  so. 

CHAPTER  3. 

Advice  to  Preachers.    Knowing  the  pull  of  the  farm, 

after  one  comes  to  love  it,  my  advice  to  preachers  is. 
"Don^t  own  a  farm."  It  is  a  snare  to  every  preacher 
who  has  tried  it.  "Give  thyself  wholly  to  these 
things."  The  crying  need  of  the  churches  and,  the 
preachers  as  well,  is  to  do  that  very  thing.  "Oh,  the 
wasted  years  on  the  farm !"  is  my  sad  lament,  now  in 
my  old  age.  Personally,  they  were  the  happiest  years 
of  my  life,  but  ministerially,  there  was  no  growth,  it 
was  impossible.  "Live  of  the  Gospel,"  is  the  command 
— it  will  never  come,  while  the  preachers  are  willing  to 
piddle  at  all  sorts  of  things  for  a  living.  I  wrote  my 
old  friend  Frost,  after  fifteen  years  of  separation.  "I 
am  playing  at  preaching  and  farming  in  dead  earnest," 


124  A   BOOK   OF   MEAIORIES. 

The  "Dead  in  Earnest"  of  a  preacher's  life,  goes  on  the 
secular  side,  if  he  is  following  a  secular  calling. 

I  began  preaching  with  the  determination  to  stick 
to  my  job.  My  churches  began  well,  paying  me  more 
than  I  was  worth.  On  the  strength  of  that,  I  got  me 
a  wife.  That  very  year,  the  farms  failed  because  of 
the  floods  and  the  churches  failed  with  me. 

In  an  evil  hour,  I  determined  to  become  independent. 
There  was  one  of  my  greatest  blunders.  I  had  an  op- 
portunity to  train  my  people  in  the  New  Testament 
plan,  but  I  did  not  do  it. 

More  than  twenty  years  ago,  I  sold  my  farm.  A  few 
years  back,  a  brother  asked :  "Aren't  you  sorry  now 
you  sold?  You  probably  got  $8  or  $10  an  acre,  now 
perhaps  you  could  get  three  or  four  times  that  much." 
My  reply  was :  "No,  if  I  had  kept  it,  I  would  have 
moved  to  it  fifteen  years  ago,  and  these  have  been 
the  most  useful  years  of  my  life."  No,  brother  Preach- 
re :  If  you  have  money  to  invest,  put  it  in  bonds  or 
something  else,  they  won't  need  any  repairs,  the  rains 
won't  wash  them  away  and  the  tenant  never  fails  to 
pay  the  rent. 

This  is  rather  a  long  introduction  to  the  story  of  Bap- 
tist Affairs,  as  I  became  acquainted  with  them  in  1870. 
In  my  immediate  section  the  ministers  were :  T.  M. 
Bailey,  W.  C.  Cleveland,  B.  H.  Crumpton  and  E.  B. 
Teague  at  Selma.  All  of  these  are  now  passed  away,  ex- 
cept Bailey  and  myself.  We  were  in  the  first  district  of 
the  Alabama  Association  in  Dallas  County.  There,  it 
would  be  safe  to  say,  the  spirit  of  progress  prevailed 
as  it  did  in  no  other  section  of  the  State.  The  fifth 
Sunday  meetings,  embracing  three  days,  were  meet- 
ings of  power  and  from  them  went  out  an  influence 
that  later,  permeated  the  State.  I  knew  nothing  of 
the  Baptists  elsewhere,  had  never  attended  a  State 
Convention. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  125 

CHAPTER  4. 

In  1872  I  attended  my  first  Convention  at  Eufaula. 
There  was  no  Minute  Fund,  hence  no  Minutes.  The 
next  year  the  clerk,  J.  J.  D.  Renfroe,  gave  a  brief  ab- 
stract of  72  and  bound  it  with  73.  That  looks  as  if 
things  were  at  a  pretty  low  ebb,  and  they  were.  The 
attendance  was  very  small.  I  met  there,  B.  F.  Riley, 
a  young  man  just  from  school,  J.  P.  Shaffer,  Doctor 
E.  T.  Winkler,  Renfroe  and  Doctor  Samuel  Hender- 
son, men  who  were  then  figuring  and  were  later  to 
figure,  in  State  affairs. 

The  next  Convention  I  attended  was  in  1874,  at  Ma- 
rion. There,  some  notable  things  occurred;  one,  the 
election  of  Jonathan  Haralson,  as  President;  the  sec- 
ond time  a  layman  was  put  in  that  office,  Judge  W.  P. 
Chilton  being  the  first.  He  was  continued  as  Presi- 
dent for  sixteen  years,  then  the  Southern  Baptist  Con- 
vention honored  him  and  itself  by  keeping  him  in  the 
President's  chair  nine  years. 

The  era  of  prosperity  with  the  Baptists  of  Alabama 
began  with  that  Convention.  The  State  Mission 
Board  was  born  at  this  session.  For  two  years  we'd 
had  a  Sunday  School  Board,  T.  C.  Boykin,  Secretary. 
Now  the  scope  was  enlarged,  the  name  was  changed 
and  T.  M.  Bailey  made  Secretary,  Boykin  having  re- 
signed. Members  of  the  Home  Mission  Board,  lo- 
cated at  Marion  and  Dr.  E.  T.  Winkler,  the  pastor  of 
Siloam  (Marion)  church,  a  little  disturbed  in  mind  over 
the  new  Board  lest  it  interfere  with  the  work  of  their 
Board,  were  reconciled,  when  it  was  located  in  Mar- 
ion, Dr.  Winkler  himself,  making  the  motion  to 
change  the  name  to  the  State  Mission  Board. 

The  Alabama  Baptist  was  bom  at  the  same  meet- 
ing. For  the  want  of  a  brave  leader  with  money,  the 
Baptists  had  suffered.  The  Christian  Index,  which 
published   an    Alabama    Department,    Doctor    Samuel 


126  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Henderson  being  the  editor,  sent  every  year,  skilled 
debaters  to  the  Alabama  Convention  who  made  prom- 
ises which  were  soon  forgotten  and  terrified  the  Ala- 
bamians  with  the  fabulous  expense  another  pa- 
per would  cost.  But  now,  figures  had  been 
made  b}^  business  men  of  our  own  and,  Winkler,  the 
orator,  was  there  to  speak  for  the  new  enterprise. 
Doctor  W.  W.  Wilkerson,  the  beloved  physician,  and 
Jessie  B.  Lovelace,  the  faithful,  had  money  to  back  the 
movement. 

Let  it  never  be  forgotten  that  in  no  small  degree, 
credit  is  due,  David  Lyon,  a  ministerial  student  of 
Howard  College,  to  whom  the  business  management 
of  the  paper  was  intrusted.  After  sixteen  months  the 
paper  was  reported  out  of  debt  and,  the  regret  ex- 
pressed that,  "no  surplus  could  be  reported  on  hand  to 
be  divided  with  the  editors  who  have  labored  so  effi- 
ciently and  acceptably,  free  of  charge,"  A  year  later 
Lyon  has  been  promoted  to  the  place  of  assistant  edi- 
tor, with  a  salary  contingent  on  the  success  of  the  pa- 
per. Another  year  passes  and  the  paper  is  presented, 
free  of  debt  to  the  Convention.  For  many  years  Da- 
vid Lyon  has  been  a  noted  Professor  in  Harvard 
University.  Our  Alabama  boys,  who  attend  the  Uni- 
versity, write  of  his  ever  abiding  interest  in  Alabama, 
Howard  College  and  the  paper. 

After  my  first  communication  to  the  new  paper,  Dr. 
Winkler  wrote  me  something  like  this :  "You  have  a 
point  to  your  pen.  You  owe  it  to  the  Lord  and  to  the 
brethren  to  keep  it  sharp  and  use  it  often."  He  might 
have  gotten  that  off  to  others  also,  but  I  was  vain 
enough  to  take  his  words  seriously.  I  think  he  in- 
tended to  encourage  a  young  brother  who  needed  it. 
I  might  have  gone  on  writing,  without  those  words, 
but  I  suspect  they  caused  me  to  fill  more  space  in  the 
newspapers  than  I  would  have  otherwise  done. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  127 

A  plan  entered  into  by  a  few  brethren,  helped  in  no 
small  degree  in  hastening  the  progressive  era.  All 
the  divisive  questions,  likely  to  come  before  the  Con- 
vention, were  listed  and  discussed  pro  and  con  through 
the  Alabama  Baptist  by  brethren,  who  had  agreed  to 
write  about  them.  The  result  was,  the  Convention 
was  pretty  well  informed,  when  it  met  and  conclusions, 
almost  unanimous,  were  reached. 

In  my  years  at  Providence,  though  handicapped  by 
the  farm;  I  did  much  preaching  in  several  counties. 
During  the  protracted  meeting  season,  for  six  weeks 
in  the  summer,  I  was  gone  from  home  much  of  the 
time.  The  5th  Sunday  meetings  and  the  Associations, 
offered  opportunities  for  great  usefulness.  For  sev- 
eral years,  I  kept  one  Sunday  vacant,  that  I  might  visit 
destitute  points  within  thirty  or  forty  miles  of  my 
home. 

One  of  these  places  was  Camden.  That  was 
the  place  where  I  first  saw  the  light  and  I 
had  a  tender  place  in  my  heart  for  them.  I  found  them 
without  a  pastor.  I  bantered  the  Jones  boys,  Paul  and 
Rich,  to  call  me  and  they  took  the  dare.  When  the 
call  came,  I  lived  22  miles  away,  across  the  river,  but 
I  accepted  temporarily  until  I  could  find  them  a  man. 

Somehow  the  first  man  was  not  a  fit  and  I  repeated 
the  plan  and  they  secured,  C.  W.  Hare,  a  native  of  Wil- 
cox County,  who  did  a  fine  work. 

Later  still,  I  served  them  and  Rockwest,  a  country 
church. 

All  this  and  much  more,  I  might  write,  leads  me  to 
say : 
Don't  Disparage  the  Work  of  the  Country  Preacher. 

The  preacher  himself  is  liable  to  underrate  the  value 
of  his  own  work.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  is  helping 
to  shape  for  life,  the  men  and  women,  who  are  to  shape 
the  destinies  of  the  State  and  Nation.  Up  to  now,  the 
cities   have  been  dominated  by  country  reared  men. 


128  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

I  stand  by  the  proposition :  The  country  is  the  best 
place  for  a  preacher  to  begin  his  life  said  a  fine  place 
for  him  to  end  it  too. 

CHAPTER  5. 

When  I  first  knew  T.  M.  Bailey,  he  was  the  pastor 
of  Town  Creek  Church.  He  was  Hving  on  a  httle  farm, 
but  I  judge,  he  knew  but  Httle  about  farming.  His 
church  was  a  large  body,  composed  entirely  of  farm- 
ers, in  a  community  of  intelligent  people.  The  pastor 
organized  an  Evergreen  Sunday  School.  I  doubt  if 
there  was  such  a  school  in  the  State,  outside  the 
towns.  The  custom  in  all  schools,  where  they  had 
them,  was  to  adjourn  in  the  fall  until  spring,  because 
few  churches  had  stoves,  Bailey  expressed  the  hope 
that  the  doors  should  never  be  closed  a  single  Sunday 
at  Town  Creek.  His  wish,  in  that  matter,  has  been 
carried  out  to  this  good  day. 

We  had  great  5th  Sunday  meetings  in  the  First  Dis- 
trict, meeting  on  Friday  and  continuing  for  three  full 
days.  Bailey  took  with  him  to  these  meetings  Deacon 
Quarles,  who  was  beyond  seventy  years  old.  Here  was 
about  his  speech:  "When  Brother  Bailey  organized  our 
Sunday  School,  we  had  two  Spectacle  classes.  I  was  to 
teach  the  one  for  the  men.  Our  church  had  been  used 
to  having  the  best  preachers  in  the  country.  I  though 
I  knew  something  about  the  Bible,  until  I  began  to 
try  to  teach  it.  Me  and  my  neighbors,  all  plain  old 
farmers,  with  mighty  Httle  education,  have  been  meet- 
ing every  Sunday  to  talk  with  one  another  about  God's 
Book.  I  want  to  say,  I  have  learned  more  about  the 
Bible  in  this  way,  than  I  ever  learned  from  hearing 
preaching." 

That  was  the  old  man's  speech,  everywhere,  and  it 
was  most  convincing.  Brother  Quarles  was  right — we 
learn  most  from  study  and  trying  to  teach.     I  would 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  129 

not  disparage  preaching;  we  must  have  it,  but  he  is 
the  best  preacher,  who  gets  his  people  to  do  like  the 
Bereans,  "Search  the  Scriptures  daily  whether  these 
things  are  so." 

Probably  the  greatest  gift  of  God  to  the  Baptists 
of  Alabama,  was  the  man  who  became  the  first  Secre- 
tary of  the  State  Mission  Board.  Alabama  needed  just 
such  a  man  at  that  time.  He  was  familiar  with  the 
Bible,  loved  children,  could  entertain  them  for  hours 
with  stories,  he  was  a  thorough  missionary,  could  re- 
ply to  all  objections,  had  been  a  foreign  missionary, 
and  was  a  good  business  man. 

There  were  opposers  everywhere — anti-Ministerial 
Education,  anti-Sunday  School,  and  anti-Missions. 
They  needed  to  hear  Bailey  but  once,  to  shut  their  ig- 
norant mouths.  They  were  not  all  converted,  but  much 
was  accomplished  when  they  were  made  to  be  more 
careful  about  their  talk.  Those  who  had  been  mission- 
aries in  name,  were  made  glad  by  what  they  heard, 
but  they  didn't  run  over  one  another  to  give  money 
to  the  cause,  for  it  was  two  years  before  the  Secre- 
tary got  enough  to  pay  his  salary  and  he  alone,  was 
in  the  field. 

Bailey  was  an  Irishman.  All  who  have  head  about 
Home  Rule  for  Irelauid,  should  know :  all  the  trouble 
comes  about  because  of  the  situation  in  the  North  of 
Ireland.  It  is  strongly  Protestant  and  the  Catholic 
part  of  Ireland  would  persecute  without  mercy  the 
Protestants  if  they  had  Home  Rule.  Our  Brother  Bai- 
ley was  from  North  Ireland,  and,  a  Moravian.  That 
denomination  was  great  on  Sunday  Schools,  memor- 
izing the  Bible  and  on  Foreign  Missions.  When  a 
young  man,  Bailey  was  a  book-keeper  in  Dublin.  Later 
he  became  a  missionary  and  went  to  the  West  Indies. 
There  he  married  a  very  beautiful  woman  of  noble 
birth.  Later,  broken  in  health  from  yellow  fever,  he 
went  to  South  Carolina.    There  he  became  a  Baptist. 


130  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Later  still,  he  was  led  to  Alabama  to  the  Alabama 
Association  about  Fort  Deposit. 

An  interesting  incident  is  told  of  his  sailing  to  the 
foreign  field.  He  was  to  have  sailed  at  a  certain  date 
on  a  certain  vessel.  On  some  account,  he  put  it  off  a 
month,  his  home  folks  not  knowing  about  the  change. 
The  vessel  he  would  have  gone  out  in,  if  his  program 
had  been  carried  out,  was  wrecked  and  all  on  board 
lost.  So  certain  were  his  friends  that  he  had  filled  a 
waterly  grave,  his  funeral  was  held.  Imagine  the  joy 
that  came  with  the  news  of  his  safe  arrival  in  another 
vessel. 

Bailey's  slogan  was:  "A  Sunday  School  in  every 
church,  every  Sunday,  with  every  member  in  attend- 
ance with  every  member  of  the  famly."  Put  him  up 
to  preach  anywhere,  on  any  topic,  he  was  certain  to 
bring  it  in.  He  was  a  thoughtful,  instructive  preach- 
er.   As  a  platform  speaker  he  had  few  equals. 

Spending  the  night  at  my  house,  I  took  him  in  my 
buggy  to  the  Bethel  Association.  It  covered  all  the 
territory  in  the  forks  of  the  Alabama  and  the  Tom- 
bigbee,  Clarke,  Marengo,  West  Wilcox  and  a  church 
or  two  in  West  Dallas.  Both  of  us  were  strangers. 
We  walked  in  on  them,  while  Brother  Adams  was 
preaching  the  introductory  sermon  to  an  audience 
about  the  size  of  a  Saturday  meeting,  in  a  large  old 
country  church.  That  P.  M.,  I  was  read  out  to  talk 
on  Sunday  Schools  at  10:00  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing, Sunday  (all  the  Associations  embraced  a  Sunday 
in  those  days).  Bailey  was  to  preach  at  11 :00  o'clock. 
"Wash,  can  you  talk  an  hour?"  was  the  Secretary's 
inquiry.  I  told  him  I  never  had.  "Well,"  he  said, 
"You  do  it  and  I'll  follow  at  once  and  we'll  give  them 
something  to  think  about."  In  all  that  territory  I 
doubt  if  there  were  half  a  dozen  Sunday  Schools.  I 
carried  out  my  part  of  the  program  as  nearly  as  I 
cold,  then  he  took  the  floor,  saying  over  all  I  had  said, 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  131 

then  some  more,  and  some  more  still.  In  a  little  while, 
dear  old  Brother  Fox,  the  Moderator,  said:  "Brother 
Bailey  I  hate  to  interrupt  you  but  the  hour  has  come 
for  the  11:00  o'clock  sermon."  "All  right,  Brother 
Moderator  I'll  take  that  up  in  a  little  while,"  was  the 
speaker's  reply.  A  half  hour  later  the  Moderator  in- 
terrupted again,  a  little  impatiently,  to  be  informed, 
"Brother  Moderator,  I  was  appointed  to  preach  the 
sermon  at  this  hour  and  I  have  been  at  it  as  hard  as  I 
could  for  the  last  half  hour  and  will  leave  it  to  the  body 
an  hour  later,  if  I  haven't  preached  a  sermon."  The 
great  audience  on  Sundays,  had  been  used  to  hearing 
a  big  sermon  on  some  doctrinal  subject  at  the  Asso- 
ciations. Thoughtful  men  said  that  was  the  begin- 
ning of  an  upward  tide  in  the  Association.  Thus,  all 
over  Alabama,  this  man  of  God  went  with  a  lighted 
torch,  and  the  smoldering  embers,  were  soon  aflame. 

Bailey  was  an  organizer.  He  took  tw^o  years  in  mak- 
ing a  survey  of  the  State,  usually  making  a  water-haul 
when  collections  were  called  for.  He  then  planned  di- 
viding the  State  into  districts  and  putting  a  strong 
man  in  each  district.  They  were  not  to  be  men  who 
needed  a  job,  but  men  who  had  proven  themselves 
good  pastors,  men  able  to  instruct  the  people  and  in- 
spire the  pastors.  They  were  to  be  called  Evangel- 
ists, not  to  hold  meetings,  but  to  make  brief  visits  to 
the  churches,  one  day  being  usually  as  much  time  as 
could  be  given  to  a  church.  They  were  to  introduce 
the  plans  for  reaching  the  people.  Missions,  Educa- 
tion, Sunday  Schools  and  Church  Development  Avere 
to  be  their  themes.  A  better  Support  for  Pastors  and 
the  Pastors  giving  more  time  to  their  ministry,  were 
to  be  insisted  upon  too.  Our  Colleges,  the  Howard 
and  the  Judson,  w^ere  to  be  talked  about  and  subscrib- 
ers secured  for  the  Alabama  Baptist. 

It  was  the  first  move  in  the  State  looking  to  the 


132  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

organization  of  our  Baptist  forces — nobody  had  any 
idea    of  the  strength  of  the  denomination. 

It  was  a  daring  venture,  a  broad  scheme  that  looked 
to  the  upbuilding  of  every  interest.  Missions  was  to 
be  the  great  theme,  for  which  subscriptions  were  to  be 
taken,  to  be  paid  in  the  fall  at  the  Associations.  It 
was  stipulated  that  the  Evangelists  were  to  collect 
their  own  salaries  on  the  field. 

Think  of  the  Boldness  of  the  Scheme!  They  were 
to  go  over  the  field,  without  scrip  (greenbacks).  They 
were  to  send  appointments,  without  invitation,  to  the 
churches,  asking  the  people  to  assemble  and  furnish 
dinner  for  all  who  might  attend. 

Meantime,  what  was  the  Evangelist  to  do  for  money 
to  support  the  family  and  pay  his  expenses  ?  He  must 
furnish  it  himself,  depending  on  the  pledges  he  took, 
to  be  paid. 

Fortunately,  there  was  no  "High  Cost  of  Living" 
and  the  "Profiteer"  was  not  heard  of,  in  those  days. 
Hotels  and  railroads  were  not  much  used. 

Southern  hospitality  stood  well  the  test;  the  preach- 
ers were  received  into  the  homes  and  the  churches, 
as  the  Angels  of  God. 

Looking  at  the  conduct  of  the  Evangelists,  the 
Churches,  or  the  Members,  we  may  well  exclaim :  Ver- 
ily, there  were  Giants  in  those  days!  Giants  in  endur- 
ance, and  Giants  in  Christian  hospitality. 

I  have  devoted  much  space  to  T.  M.  Bailey,  he  richly 
deserves  it,  for  he  was  the  Moses  God  sent  to  lead 
his  people  through  the  Wildnerness  into  the  glorious, 
day  we  now  enjoy. 

CHAPTER  6. 

In  1877  at  Gadsden  the  Convention  sermon  was 
preached  at  night,  by  the  alternate,  W.  B.  Crumpton, 
the  principal,  Josephus  Shackelford,  being  absent.  On 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  133 

some  account  this  fact  of  history  does  not  appear  in 
the  Minutes.  Perhaps  the  sermon  wasn't  much,  but  I 
tried  it  on  another  congregation  down  South  and  a 
very  thoughtful  Methodist  said :  "Brother  Crump- 
ton,  I  am  much  interested  along  the  line  of  your  ser- 
mon today  and  I  want  to  give  it  as  my  judgment,  you 
ought  to  preach  it  as  long  as  you  live-"  I  took  his 
advice  and  not  many  times  have  I  failed  to  preach  it, 
where  I  preached  twice.  The  text  was :  "Am  I  My 
Brother*s  Keeper?"  That  sermon  fits  everywhere. 
It  fixes  responsibility  on  every  man.  One  need  not 
use  that  text  every  time,  the  Bible  is  full  of  texts  to 
fit  the  sermon. 

There  was  something  wrong  with  the  Alabama 
Baptist  as  indicated  by  a  report  by  Dr.  Joshua  Foster, 
one  of  the  best  men  in  the  body.  Probably  the  Con- 
vention there  gave  the  paper  to  John  West,  Dr.  Wink- 
ler to  be  the  editor,  assisted  by  Renfro  and  a  lot  of 
corresponding  editors.  The  Convention  seemed  to 
feel  relieved  when  it  was  done.  The  trouble  prob- 
ably was,  there  were  too  msuny  who  believed  they  were 
bom  editors.  In  giving  it  away,  the  Convention  re- 
served the  right  to  a  refusal,  in  case  the  paper  should 
be  sold. 

I  have  made  frequent  mention  of 

My  belief  in  the  Guiding  Hand  and  the  evidences 
of  its  reality.  Some  may  call  my  Providential  Indica- 
tions, only  coincidences,  more  or  less  interesting,  ac- 
cording to  the  bent  of  the  mind  of  the  writer,  but  I 
prefer  to  read  God  into  the  story,  as  I  have  abundant 
reason  to  do,  according  to  my  reading  of  His  Word. 

I  was  in  God's  School  from  the  start. 

The  28  years  in  the  Secretaryship  was  the  Goal. 

I  had  to  be  in  all  sorts  of  schools  to  properly  fill  the 
place. 

I  needed  to  know  more  of  city  life.  I  had  been 
much  in  cities,  but  I  knew  nothing  of  their  church 


134  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

life  and  the  problems  confronting  them.  So  the  good 
Hand  of  the  Lord  led  me,  without  the  least  effort 
on  my  part,  from  the  farm  to 

My  Ministry  in  Meridian,  Mississippi. 
It  was  not  a  great  city,  but  city  enough  for  His  pur- 
pose in  me.  The  church  was  one  of  the  first  to  respond, 
years  before,  when  their  good  pastor,  J.  B.  Hamber- 
lin  made  an  appeal  in  the  Baptist  Watchman,  for  as- 
sistance to  educate  a  young  preacher. 

When  they  made  that  contribution,  they  knew  noth- 
ing of  me  except  as  the  pastor,  who  was  also  the  Edi- 
tor of  the  paper,  spoke  of  me.  The  appeal  in  the  paper 
reached  many  more  in  the  State — thus  the  Baptists 
of  Mississippi,  gave  me  a  start  at  a  most  opportune 
time,  little  dreaming  that  I  would  ever  be  led  to 
their  field. 

Eleven  years  after  they  made  their  contribution; 
over  in  Alabama,  on  my  farm  in  the  fall  of  the  year, 
I  got  a  letter.  It  was  from  Capt.  Wm.  H.  Hardy,  say- 
ing the  church  had  called  me.  The  salary  was  named 
at  $900.  I  had  not  accepted  one  of  the  numerous  calls 
from  the  churches.  I  had  just  arranged  my  affairs  for 
the  next  year  so  that  I  would  not  be  so  tied. down  to 
business.  Here  was  a  chance  to  do  just  what  I  had 
been  longing  to  do — to  give  all  my  time  to  the  min- 
istry.   What  should  I  do? 

If  my  prayers  had  been  sincere,  there  was  but  one 
thing  for  me  to  do.  They  called  without  seeing  me ;  I 
accepted  without  seeing  them.  The  salary  was  very 
small,  house  rent  to  be  paid  out  of  that,  but  the  income 
from  the  farm  would  splice  out. 

I  say  nothing  of  the  battles  the  good  wife  had  to 
fight,  in  leaving  her  old  parents  all  alone.  When  I  think 
of  that,  even  to  this  day,  I  weaken  and  feel  that  maybe 
I  ought  not  to  have  allowed  her  to  make  the  sacrifice. 
But  I  am  sure,  she  remembered  the  promise  of  the 
IMaster  to  those  who  left  father  or  mother,  for  His 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  135 

sake  and  the  gospel.  It  all  worked  out  in  the  end,  and 
she  was  very  happy  over  the  results. 

How  I  learned  in  Meridizui,  about  church  troubles! 

I  had  never  dreamed  that  a  church  would  get  into  such 
tangles.  Our  prayer  meetings  were  turned  into  debat- 
ing societies.  In  Corinth,  it  could  not  have  been 
worse,  only  there  were  no  scandals,  but  factions  ga- 
lore. 

An  old  Methodist  brother  said:  ''Brother  Crumpton, 
I  tell  you, what  I  told  our  people  last  night  at  prayer 
meeting.  We  had  an  awful  time — plum  awful.  It  was 
way  after  bed  time  before  w^e  left  the  church.  I  told 
them  that  we  were  the  contrariest  set  of  folks  I  ever 
saw.  I  said :  Why  can't  we  get  along  without  fuss 
like  the  Baptists  ?  They  used  to  have  their  troubles, 
but  since  the  young  preacher  came,  they  have  all 
quieted  down  and  you  never  hear  of  any  trouble  among 
them.'  "  I  broke  away  at  that,  w^hile  it  was  all  good, 
I  was  afraid  he  was  going  to  say  some  body  corrected 
his  statement.  The  night  he  had  spoken  of,  w^as  one  of 
our  worst.  I  told  my  people  of  the  conversation  at 
the  next  meeting  and  it  did  them  good. 

In  1878,  in  the  summer,  the  Yellow  Fever  began  to 
be  talked  about — finally  it  reached  us.  Every  body 
w^ho  could,  left  the  city — of  course  the  preachers  re- 
mained. Then  followed  six  or  eight  weeks  of  anxiety 
and  distress.  Our  old  parents  were  in  Alabama,  wife 
and  children  five  or  six  miles  in  the  country,  with 
shot  gun  quarantine  on,  all  business  suspended,  pas- 
senger trains  going  through  with  windows  down,  no 
trains  except  a  local,  bringing  mail  and  supplies  and 
going  away  with  mail  thoroughly  fumigated.  The 
only  business  houses  open,  were  the  drug  stores  and 
saloons,  to  supply  booze  for  the  drinkers,  to  keep  them 
from  being  afraid.    Liquor  will  make  a  coward  brave. 

Speaking  of  schooling.  I  had  a  new  lesson  every 
day  and  sometimes  everv  hour.    I  learned  how  to  trv 


136  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

to  comfort  people  in  deep  distress  and  often  I  failed; 
how  to  pray  in  the  homes,  and,  where  not  to  pi*ay  au- 
dibly; how  to  talk  to  the  dying;  and,  how  to  manage 
nurses — oh,  the  lessons  I  did  learn! 

The  sustaining  power  of  religion,  I  saw  demonstrat- 
ed time  and  again. 

The  utter  depravity  of  msin,  I  saw  too.  Here  is  an 
instance :  A  young  sister  refused  all  proffers  of  help 
to  relieve  her,  with  her  only  brother.  I  saw  them 
every  day  and  saw  that  all  their  wants  were  supplied. 
The  young  man  \vas  on  the  mend.  His  sister  on  the 
verge  of  collapse,  for  the  want  of  sleep,  yielded  one 
night  to  the  importunities  of  a  wretch  who  claimed 
to  have  been  sent  by  the  committee  to  relieve  her.  She 
knew  of  only  one  committee,  the  one  her  pastor  was 
on.  Her  brother  was  doing  well  and  joined  in  an 
appeal  to  her  to  rest.  Far  in  the  night,  she  was  roused 
to  find  the  nurse  drunk  and  her  brother  raving  in  de- 
lirium. There  she  had  to  wait  and  see  her  brother 
die,  all  alone.  The  neighbors  were  all  gone ;  there  were 
no  phones.  The  drinking,  gambling  crowd  had  or- 
ganized a  rival'  relief  committee,  so  they  might  adver- 
tise and  have  money  sent  to  them.  That  drunken  rascal 
was  driven  from  the  town  and  the  committee,  under 
threats,  disbanded. 

A  beautiful  girl,  a  member  of  my  church,  was  ill, 
but  her  doctor-father  insisted,  she  only  had  malarial 
fever.  In  a  few  days  the  fever  seemed  to  leave  her. 
I  passed  down  the  street  and  found  her  reclining  in 
bed,  taking  a  little  breakfast.  We  were  all  so  happy, 
for  she  was  a  universal  favorite.  Returning,  a  little 
after  noon,  I  found  her  dying.  A  lovely  daughter,  sac- 
rified  because  a  stubborn  father  held  out  in  the  con- 
tention that  there  was  no  Yellow  fever  in  town. 

One  morning  I  was  called  to  a  home,  where  one  of 
m}^  members  and  his  nephew  had  been  stricken  in  the 


A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES.  137 

night  and  his  wife  had  gone  crazy.  The  trouble  I  had 
then,  would  take  a  long  time  to  tell. 

After  the  first  big  frost  in  November,  I  was  given  a 
leave  of  absence  for  a  month.  The  first  sermon  I 
preached,  on  my  return,  was  from  the  text :  "I  had 
fainted  unless  I  had  believed  to  see  the  goodness  of 
God  in  the  land  of  the  living." 

His  goodness  to  me  and  mine  and  to  my  people  ;  when 
I  thing  of  it,  it  overwhelms  me,  to  this  day : 

I  think  I  was  an  apt  scholar  in  the  school  for  two 
years  and  have  tried  to  use  to  good  purpose  the  les- 
sons learned. 

The  hosts  of  friends  made  and  their  extreme  kind- 
ness, is  one  of  the  sweetest  recollections  of  my  life. 

The  pull  from  Alabama  of  the  dear  old  people,  all 
alone  on  the  farm  and  my  own  father  in  his  89th 
year,  finally  prevailed  and  I  came  to  the  final  school 
before  I  should  undertake  the  task  for  which  I  had 
been  in  preparation. 

CHAPTER  7. 

After  my  return  to  Alabama,  I  turned  about  a 
year  or  two,  serving  churches  within  reach  of  my 
home,  until  I  was  offered  a  place  as  one  of  the  Evan- 
gelists under  the  Board,  I  accepted  on  condition  the 
Secretary  would  go  with  me  on  horse-back  for  three 
weeks.  This  he  agreed  to  do — as  a  matter  of  fact, 
he  went  with  me  for  five  weeks.  My  field  covered 
Perry,  Hale,  Bibb,  Dallas,  Lowndes,  Montgomery, 
Bullock  and  a  part  of  Crenshaw. 

The  trip  of  which  I  speak,  was  advertised  by  let- 
ters to  the  churches  and  by  publication  in  the  Ala- 
bama Baptist.  One  day  only  could  be  given  to  a 
church.  Our  manner  of  procedure  was  about  thus : 
Prayer  and  praise  service  conducted  by  Secretary  Bai- 
ley, who  then  introduced  the  Evangelist,  a  sermon 
followed.     A  period  of  good   fellowship  was  always 


138  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

enjoyed  during  the  noon  hour.     In  the  afternoon  the 
Secretary  explained  the  plan  and  called  for  subscrip- 
tions to  be  paid  at  the  Association. 
Five  Weeks  in  the  Saddle! 

The  Secretary  and  I  made  our  start  from  Marion. 
My  job,  as  I  understood  it,  was :  To  get  be- 
fore the  people  every  phase  of  the  work  of 
the  denomination.  There  was  every  variety  of  sin- 
ner in  the  congregations,  together  with  backsliders 
and  indifferents ;  many  Hardshells  and  their  children, 
with  all  their  prejudices  against  Missions,  their  oppo- 
sition to  Sunday  Schools  and  Ministerial  Education ; 
among  the  church  members,  were  the  discouraged, 
the  indifferent  and  the  uninformed.  There  were  few 
Sunday  Schools  and  no  literature  for  the  schools. 
The  Judson  and  Howard  were  little  known  and  indif- 
ference to  general  education  was  rife,  everywhere ; 
Pastors  were  getting  almost  nothing  for  their  serv- 
ices and  giving  only  a  small  fraction  of  their  time  to 
the  churches. 

The  Alabama  Baptist,  to  become  our  strong  right 
arm  of  power,  was  very  young,  and  subscribers  were 
to  be  solicited;  Ministerial  Education  had  more  op- 
posers  than  helpers ;  There  was  no  talk  of  an  Orphan- 
age, or  of  efforts  to  care  for  old  preachers ;  Liquor 
was  sold  at  every  cross-roads  by  the  gallon,  or  quart, 
and,  was  regarded  as  the  most  valuable  domestic  med- 
icine ;  Besides,  thank  the  Lord,  were  pious  souls,  pray- 
ing and  looking  for  the  coming  of  the  kingdom.  They 
had  been  looking  forward  eagerly  to  the  coming  of 
the  Evangelist.    A  bill  of  fare  must  be  prepared 

To  ofiFer  to  these  people.  How  could  it  all  be  put  be- 
fore them  in  one  day  and  sometimes  in  one  sermon? 
Many  different  sermons  were  not  needed,  as  conditions 
were  nearly  the  same  everywhere. 

An  India  Rubber  sermon  had  to  be  invented,  and  I 
invented  it.    Here  is  a  hint  of  it : 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  139 

"Therefore,"  Rom.  12th,  1st,  is  a  pivotal  word.  That 
was  my  text.  From  it  I  preached  in  both  directions, 
and  covered  mighty  near  the  whole  Epistle.  To  the 
left,  I  brought  out  the  Doctrines,  beginning  with 
Sin.  I  pleased  the  Hardshells  with  the  Doctrines — 
Sin  and  Salvation,  Election  and  Baptism.  At  the 
same  time  I  ruined  the  Soft  Shells,  who  were  mouth- 
ing around,  making  light  of  Doctrine.  Paul  devoted 
eleven  chapters,  talking  about  doctrine.  Laying  the 
foundation.  "What  are  we  to  think  of  those  whr  spend 
all  the  time  laying  foundations  and  never  build?  And 
what  are  we  to  think  of  those  who  propose  to  build 
without  a  foundation.  Both  are  alike  foolish  and  un- 
scriptural."  All  this  comes  from  the  left  of  the  text. 

On  the  right,  we  have  the  Building :  Practical  Chris- 
tianity. Almost  everything  you  can  think  of,  that  a 
Christian  ought  to  do  and,  not  to  do,  is  found 
in  the  balance  of  the  Epistle.  What  we  should  do  and 
what  we  should  not  do  is  brought  out  in  the  9th  verse 
"Abhor  that  which  is  evil,  Cleave  to  that  which  is 
good." 

A  thing  we  abhor,  we  will  not  likely  walk  around 
it  and  ask,  if  it  is  as  evil  as  something  else.  A  rat- 
tle snake  is  a  beautiful  thing,  but  we'd  be  careful  how 
we  linger  to  admire  the  deadly  beast.    Abhor  it. 

Cleave  is  a  strong  word — no  tameness  in  its  grip. 
No  taking  it  between  the  thumb  and  forefinger,  ready 
to  let  it  drop.  A  death  grip,  such  as  the  boy  had  on  the 
swinging  limb,  when  he  was  about  to  drown.  Like  I 
had  on  the  first  Green-back  dollar  I  ever  saw,  when 
I  was  a  wounded  soldier  in  Vicksburg.  I  didn't  take 
it  lightly  in  my  fingers  and  go  slinging  it  in  the  air — 
no  sir,  I  clave  to  it  and  would  have  given  my  life  rather 
than  to  have  parted  with  it.  Apply  this  word  to  any 
Christian  duty — prayer.  Scripture  reading,  giving  to 
God's  cause.  And  what  about  the  poor  silly  souls  that 
are  always  halting  and  inquiring  whether  things  are 


140  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

good  or  evil  ?  Young  folks  about  dancing,  for  instance ! 
They  think  there  is  something  wrong  about  it,  or  the 
question  wouldn't  be  asked ;  then  let  it  alone — give  the 
conscience  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 

There  are  other  chapters  about  the  sermon,  which 
need  not  be  told  here. 

The  Nine  months  of  Evangelistic  service  were  rich 
in  experience  to  me.  I  used  the  railroads  but  little, 
because  of  the  schedules.  Horseback  travel  made  it 
very  hard.  It  was  made  harder  still  by  reason  of  my 
methods.  When  I  got  to  a  house,  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  next  day's  appointment,  I  sent  runners  to  the 
neighbors  asking  them  to  come  to  the  home  for  a 
night  service.  This  advertised  the  meeting  for  the 
next  day.  Good  congregations  met  me  everywhere. 
I  was  rained  out  only  one  day  in  the  nine  months. 
I  made  much  of  the  children's  service  everywhere.  The 
programme  was  about  thus  :  Service  at  ten  to  twelve. 
After  we  had  eaten,  while  the  table  was  being  cleared, 
I  called  the  children  in  for  a  twenty  minutes  service, 
then  followed  another  service.  By  three  o'clock,  I 
was  in  my  saddle,  on  my  way  to  the  next  place,  five  to 
ten  miles  away. 

Here  is  a  sort  of  report  of  the  work:  I  visited  every 
one  of  the  large  number  of  churches  once  and  some  of 
them  twice ;  preached  from  one  to  three  sermons  and 
traveled  from  five  to  fifteen  miles  a  day.  I  was  at 
home  in  all  the  time,  not  more  than  four  weeks  and 
turned  into  the  treasury  several  hundred  dollars  more 
than  my  salary. 

Made  Secretary.  A  year  or  two  after  the  evange- 
listic work,  Bailey  having  resigned,  I  was  elected  to 
take  his  place.  He  had  given  ten  years  and  I  mentally 
reselved  to  give  ten  of  the  best  years  of  my  life  to 
the  job. 

This  ends  the  period  of  my  Ministry,  except  a  couple 
of  years,  beginning  in  1915,  after  I  was  made  Secre- 


A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES.  141 

tary  Emeritus.  I  couldn't  feel  satisfied  to  be  without 
any  preaching  service,  so  I  visited  the  little  church  at 
Chisholm,  a  suburb  of  Montgomery.  Brother  George 
Brewer  was  its  first  pastor.  The  Board  had  been 
helping  for  several  years.  The  people  were  out  of 
heart,  in  debt,  without  a  pastor  and  worshiping  in  an 
unfinished  house.  It  was  a  great  joy  to  be  in  the  pas- 
torate once  more.  Considering  the  state  of  my  health, 
I  did  a  fairly  good  work.  The  LaPine  Saints  had  my 
service  once  a  month,  too. 

The  coming  of  Camp  Sheridan,  with  ten  thousand 
soldiers,  right  near  the  church,  made  it  all  important 
that  full  time  be  given  to  the  church  instead  of  only 
the  half  time,  I  was  able  to  render.  I  resigned  to  give 
place  to  a  younger  and  stronger  man.  Numbers  of 
soldiers  were  baptized  and  thousands  of  them  heard 
the  gospel,  before  they  went  to  their  death  in  France 
and  in  the  hospitals.  The  State  and  Home  Mission 
Boards  came  to  the  help  of  the  little  church  and  fin- 
ished the  building — the  Northern  Baptists  also  helping, 
as  there  were  thousands  of  Ohio  soldiers  in  the  camp. 

I  might  add,  before  I  close  with  My  Ministry:  Each 
year  of  my  pastorate  at  Providence,  I  had  a  protracted 
meeting,  as  I  did  with  all  the  churches  I  served.  My 
preaching,  as  I  have  said  before,  was  mainly  to  Chris- 
tians and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  people  grow 
in  grace,  in  liberality  and  in  general  church  activities. 
Ten  or  a  dozen,  were  about  as  many  as  I  ever  baptized 
as  the  result  of  a  meeting.  I  never  was  in  what  was 
called  a  great  revival,  where  many  turned  to  the  Lord. 
Usually,  I  had  a  brother  to  help  me,  some  of  my  help- 
ers would  have  roped  them  in  by  droves,  if  I  had  al- 
lowed. I  never  gave  my  meetings  over  to  my  helper. 
Probably  I  have  been  too  conservative,  but,  on  the 
whole.  I  feel  that  my  plan  was  the  better. 

Not  being  a  soul-winner,  has  been  a  great  grief  to 
me.    ''Oh,  the  joy  of  a  pastor's  life,"  I  might  have  ex- 


142  A   BOOK   OF   AfEMORIES. 

claimed,  if  I  could  have  given  my  time  to  it  unham- 
pered by  secular  employments.  The  two  years  at  Me- 
ridian, covers  the  period  of  my  real  pastoral  experi- 
ence. 

Rescue  work  was  mine,  rescuing  lives  which  were 
equipped  for  service,  but  the  pull  of  the  world  and 
business,  were  ready  to  engulf  them.  This  clipping 
from  a  late  Alabama  Baptist  helps  to  explain  it,  at  the 
same  time  it  gives  my  estimate  of  the  B.  Y.  P.  U. : 

How  I  came  to  Believe  in  the  B.  Y.  P.  U. — A  Personal 
Experience. 

I  was  never  much  inclined  to  take  up  new  things. 
Some  of  them  are  no  improvement  on  the  old.  When 
the  B.  Y.  P  .U.  came  along,  I  was  inclined  to  think  it 
an  unnecessary  wheel  in  our  machinery.  The  Sunday 
School,  I  argued,  would  be  sufficient.  But  the  people 
who  had  the  matter  in  charge,  got  a  place  on  the  pro- 
gram at  the  Greenville  convention  for  a  young  brother, 
who  began  by  speaking  of  the  great  work  of  soul  sav- 
ing. That  was  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world,  and  I 
perfectly  agreed  with  him,  as  did  every  one  there,  I 
am  sure.  Then  he  asked :  "Is  there  not  such  a  thing 
as  a  lost  life?  May  not  one  have  a  saved  soul  and 
the  life  be  lost?"  That  was  the  centimeter  gun  that 
killed  all  my  opposition. 

I  recalled  nine  years  of  my  own  life  that  were  lost,  I 
was  a  cripple,  spiritually,  for  years  and  poorly  served 
the  Master  because  of  the  lost  years.  There  were  no 
Sunday  Schools  in  the  country  in  those  days,  no  B.  Y.  P. 
U.,  no  efiFort,  no  pastoral  work — nothing  to  develop,  or 
inspire  the  young. 

Like  the  Texans,  who  drive  the  young  cattle  up  in 
the  spring,  brand  them  and  turn  them  loose  on  the 
range,  the  young  folks  were  baptized  and  left  to  the 
wiles  of  the  devil.  I  can  call  to  mind  hundreds  of  lives 
that  were  lost,  after  the  soul  was  saved. 


Part  Six 
MISCELLANEA 

CHAPTER  I. 

I  will  here  finish,  The  story  about  my  old  Father  of 

whom  I  have  made  frequent  mention.  I  have  told 
how  the  home  was  broken  up  after  my  mother's  death. 
I  was  the  youngest,  about  thirteen.  He  thought  he 
had  made  good  provision  for  me — his  plans  all  going 
awry,  as  I  have  described  in  another  place.  I  have 
told  of  his  fondness  for  trading,  I  suspect  as  a  general 
thing,  he  got  the  worst  of  the  trades. 

I  think  a  sort  of  benevolent  feeling  possessed  him, 
when  he  traded  for  old  horses  and  oxen,  to  see  how 
he  could  bring  the  old  things  out.  The  curry-comb 
and  good  feed  soon  showed  their  effect  and  sometimes, 
he  sold  them  to  good  advantage. 

He  took  to  reading  botany  and  found  out  what  roots 
and  herbs  were  good  for  and  learned  how  to  make 
them  into  medicine — going  on  the  idea  that,  some- 
thing is  growing  out  of  the  ground,  which  if  properly 
handled,  will  prove  a  remedy  for  ever}^  disease  flesh 
is  heir  to.  Thus,  without  being  a  practitioner,  he  be- 
came known  as  '^Doctor"  Crumpton.  What  he  had 
been  doing  for  old  animals,  he  began  doing  for  old 
people  and  chronic  cases.  His  simple  remedies,  going 
on  the  principle :  "Help  Nature  to  relieve  herself," 
put  many  a  man  and  woman  on  their  feet  after  the 
regulars  had  failed  to  relieve.  When  the  Civil  War 
was  on,  the  ports  of  the  South  were  closed  by  the 
blockade.  The  physicians  could  get  no  medicine  and 
were  forced  to  come  to  him  to  make  medicine  for 
them. 


144  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

He  was  a  bitter  enemy  of  calomel  and  drastic  med- 
icines, an  advocate  for  little  medicine  and  that  in  small 
doses.  In  that  day,  it  was  utterly  contrary  to  the 
plans  of  the  general  practitioner,  but  now  pretty  much 
adopted  by  all.  He  was  a  great  reader,  having  a  pen- 
cil in  hand  always,  while  reading.  "Never  sit  down 
without  a  book  or  paper  in  your  hand,"  was  his  insis- 
tent remark  to  his  dreamy,  idle  son. 

He  was  an  Apostle  of  Intensive  Fanning;  *'Inten- 
sive,  rather  than  Extensive  Farming,"  was  his  slo- 
gan, sixty  years  ago,  when  nobody  practiced  it ;  now 
it  is  rapidly  enriching  every  farmer  who  pursues  the 
method.  He  demonstrated,  by  the  cultivation  of 
patches,  mostly  with  his  own  hands,  that  great  crops 
could  be  made  on  one  third  the  land  the  average  farmer 
planted.  Farmers  admitted  all  that  he  said,  but  they 
had  lands  and  labor  in  abundance  and  went  on  in  the 
old  way — so  it  has  ever  been  and  will  be  to  the  end. 

Knowing  he  was  right  about  Fanning,  Medicine,  To- 
bacco and  Liquor,  he  was  everlastingly  preaching.  He 
was  not  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  but  a  preacher  of  the 
most  pronounced  type  along  Humanitarian  Hnes.  A 
modest,  gentlemanly,  persistent  Missionary  on  the 
principle :  "Freely  you  have  received,  freely  give." 
Any  old  thing,  one  might  give  for  his  service,  he  would 
receive.  He  could  have  gotten  Confederate  money  by 
the  basketful  and  invested  in  in  lands,  which  would 
have  made  his  children  rich,  but  he  seldom  took  any- 
thing.   His  seed-sowing  was  not  in  vain. 

Separating  from  him  when  I  was  a  boy,  I  had  no  op- 
portunity of  learning  any  thing  of  his  religious  life 
and  experiences.  When  I  w^as  on  a  Mississippi  farm 
keeping  bach,  of  which  I  have  spoken  before,  when 
asked  to  lead  the  devotions  before  retiring,  he  cheer- 
fully responded  and  his  baby  boy  heard  for  the  first 
time  his  voice  in  devotion.  It  was  easy  to  discover  that 
he  was  used  to  talking  with  God.    To  hear  him  pray 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  145 

in  his  old  age,  was  a  great  joy  to  me.  He  lived  to  be 
very  old,  his  mind  was  a  bit  flighty  at  times,  but  as  long 
as  he  had  breath,  he  never  missed  an  opportunity  to 
impress  upon  all  who  came  about  him  his  ideas.  He 
thought  not  of  himself  but  others. 

I  got  hold  of  this  somewhere:  "An  old  man,  his 
bald  head  bleeding,  came  tumbling  down  the  stairs 
onto  the  sidewalk,  a  young  man  following,  kicking 
him.  The  people  passing  protesting  bitterly,  with 
threats  of  violence  to  the  cruel  wretch,  the  old  man 
cried  out:  "Retribution!  Let  him  alone  gentlemen, 
I  am  getting  only  wdiat  is  coming  to  me ;  this  is  the 
way  I  treated  my  father  when  he  was  old."  The  high- 
est test  of  one's  character  comes  with  their  treatment 
of  old  people,  especially  old  parents :  Verily  mistreat- 
ment will  bring  its  reward  and  probably  it  will  come 
first  in  this  life.     I  pass  this  on. 

I  bless  God  for  my  old  father,  with  his  abiding  in- 
terest in  humanity  and  that  I  learned  the  lesson  so 
well. 

In  Kentucky.  I  have  spoken  about  my  arrival  at 
Georgetown  about  Christmas,  1867.  I  was  twenty- 
five  years  old.  I  was  fairly  up  in  mathematics,  but 
woefully  behind  in  other  things.  Of  course  I  had  to 
go  to  the  Academy  (the  boys  called  it  the  "kitchen") 
among  small  boys.  A  fine  old  preacher,  a  friend  of 
mine,  suggested  that  I  study  with  him  during  the  va- 
cation and  get  into  the  Freshman  class  in  College.  I 
was  unwise  enough  to  act  upon  his  suggestion  and  that 
was  my  undoing.  I  needed  the  drill  of  the  Academy 
for  the  year,  to  go  on  with  satisfaction  with  the  Col- 
lege course.  The  Faculty  graced  me  into  the  Fresh- 
man, but  I  went  crippling  along — finally  after  two 
years,  I  gave  up  the  idea  of  graduation  and  quit. 

The  Lord  overruled  this  great  blunder,  by  giving  me 
a  message,  which  I  have  used  very  earnestly  in  ad- 
dressing thousands  of  students,  exhorting  them  to  lay 


146  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

their  foundations  for  an  education,  citing  my  mistake 
as  an  illustration  of  folly.  The  foundation  being  de- 
fective the  building  was  always  uncertain.  With  a 
smattering  I  have  done  something,  how  much  more 
could  I  have  done  if  I  had  taken  time  on  foundation 
work. 

Kentucky  is  a  great  State  and  probably  the  best 
place  I  could  have  gone  to  school.  I  had  absorbed 
much  in  travel  and  in  the  army  and  the  work  of  ab- 
sorbing went  on  gloriously  in  my  two  years  at  George- 
town. Some  associations  I  formed  there  have  been  a 
great  blessing  to  me  all  my  days. 

Another  Chapter  About  Kentucky:  After  being  in 
Alabama  for  a  time,  my  old  friend  Davidson,  became 
President  of  Georgetown  College.  He  had  heard  me 
say,  I  was  going  to  give  to  the  Secretaryship  of  Ala- 
bama ten  of  the  best  years  of  my  life.  Knowing  that 
the  time  was  just  about  up,  he  had  me  called  to  the 
Agency  of  the  College.  So  that,  after  twenty-seven 
years  from  the  time  we  were  fellow  students  at  the 
College,  we  were  together  again  on  the  same  old 
grounds. 

The  people  who  looked  into  my  work  as  Agent  were 
pleased.  I  was  especially  glad  that  the  student  body 
increased — one  year  reaching  399.  I  launched  a  move- 
ment for  an  Endowment  to  help  poor  girls.  I  believed 
I  could  enlist  the  rich  women  of  the  State  to  estab- 
lish it.  I  learned  a  lesson  before  I  had  long  gone  on 
my  mission :  The  men  were  more  easily  interested 
than  the  women.  I  understand  the  project  w^as  car- 
ried on  after,  a  large  fund  being  raised. 

I  learned  much  about  Kentucky  people  of  course — 
some  very  surprising  things.  People  call  the  South 
Carolinians  "Fire-Eaters"  in  politics.  They  can't  hold 
a  candle  to  the  Kentuckians.  I  was  there  in  the  days 
of  the  Silver  and  Gold  discussion.  The  most  of  the 
Democrats   were   for   Silver.     There   was   no   sort   of 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  147 

toleration  for  a  man  that  favored  Gold.  I  was  a  Gro- 
ver  Cleveland  Democrat.  I  was  discreet,  but  they 
found  out  my  views  and  some  boycotted  the  College  on 
my  account  and  the  pronounced  views  of  some  of  the 
Faculty. 

The  Whitsitt  Controversy  was  on  too..  We  boast 
of  the  fact  that  the  Bapitsts  never  persecuted — which 
is  a  fact  of  history  to  be  proud  of ;  but  Kentucky  Bap- 
tists came  dangerously  near  being  persecutors  of  their 
own  people  in  that  controversy. 

One  of  the  most  spectacular  incidents  that  ever  I  wit- 
nessed was  when  the  Long  Run  Association,  which  em- 
braces the  churches  of  Louisville,  celebrated  its  100th 
anniversary  at  the  old  church,  by  that  name. 

Carter  Hehn  Jones,  a  defender  of  Dr.  Whitsitt,  un- 
dertook to  speak.  Dear  old  Brother  Powers,  the  Mod- 
erator, wanted  to  be  courteous  and  indulged  the  speak- 
er, but  the  opposition  would  not  allow.  While  Carter 
stood  in  the  pulpit  by  the  side  of  the  Moderator,  the 
opposers  mounted  the  seats  and  called  for  the  ques- 
tion. It  must  have  lasted  an  hour.  Such  behavior  I 
had  no  dream  would  occur  in  a  section  like  that.  Car- 
ter afterwards  said,  he  had  always  used  the  saying: 
"It  will  be  all  right  in  the  long  run,"  but  he  never  would 
say  it  again.  "The  Long  Run  was  all  wrong."  Con- 
tending with  the  silver  question  among  the  Democrats 
and  the  Whitsitt  question  among  the  Baptists,  made 
against  my  work  for  the  College  and  was  exceedingly 
unpleasant. 

I  told  some  of  my  friends,  when  about  to  move  away: 
"Kentucky  is  a  fine  State  to  move  away  from."  On 
another  occasion,  maybe  this  was  said  on  my  leav- 
ing too :  "Kentuckians  are  a  great  people  to  give  a 
Denominational  Agent  a  fifty  dollar  dinner  at  their 
homes  and  a  15  cent  collection  at  the  church."  I  take 
both  of  these  statements  back,  since  Kentuckv  went 


148  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

for  Prohibition  and  Kentucky  Baptists  went  clear  over 
the  top  on  the  75  MilHon  Campaign. 

CHAPTER  2. 

Criticising  The  Pastor  and  got  Criticised.     I  was  a 

young  preacher  when  I  was  teaching.  I  boarded  with 
some  good,  plain,  country  people,  three  miles  from 
town.  They  were  members  of  the  town  church  and  I 
put  my  letter  in  there.  I  suppose  the  pastor  w^as  a 
poor  visitor  and  those  people  complained  about  it. 
"Smart  Alex"  like,  I  ventured  to  say  to  an  old  deacon, 
that  the  pastor  might  mend  his  ways  and  give  a  little 
more  attention  to  his  country  members.  The  old 
man  turned  on  me  with,  "Young  man,  that  is  my  pas- 
tor you  are  talking  about.  I  never  let  anybody  criti- 
cise my  pastor.  It  is  a  mighty  good  thing  for  you  to 
learn  now  in  your  young  ministerial  life.  Maybe  the 
pastor  has  not  gone  quite  as  often  as  he  ought  to  see 
his  people,  but  he  has  a  large  church.  They  are  scat- 
tered over  an  immense  territory  and  it  is  unreason- 
able for  people  who  are  all  in  good  health,  to  growl 
because  the  pastor  don't  run  his  legs  off  to  visit  them. 
Besides  he. is  a  great  preacher,  he  gives  the  people 
their  money's  worth,  when  they  go  to  hear  him — he's 
got  to  study  hard.  Now  don't  you  encourage  people 
to  talk  about  their  pastor.  You  will  know  how  it  is 
some  day."  When  he  was  through,  I  said,  "Deacon,  I'm 
sure  you  are  right  and  I  thank  you  for  this  faithful 
lesson  you  have  given  me."  That  lesson  did  me  good 
and  I  have  used  it  to  good  purpose  through  long 
years.     But  I  maintain  : 

If  a  preacher  loves  his  people  he  will  visit  them 
and  he  will  get  from  them  far  more  than  he  leaves  with 
them.  His  best  sermons  will  be  those  suggested  by  his 
visitations.    The  wise,  house-going  preacher,  will  soon 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  149 

have  the  affections  of  his  people,  then  all  their  com- 
plainings, will  be  only  harmless  chidings. 

Fitting  a  Kentucky  preacher's  speech  on  to  a  stingy 
member  in  Alabama.  A  close-fisted  member,  who  had 
been  reared  a  Hardshell,  took  a  fancy  to  me  and  out 
of  his  abundance,  paid  half  of  my  salary.  The  eyes 
of  everybody  opened  wider  still,  when  he  took  the 
pastor  and  several  others,  in  a  new  spring  wagon, 
behind  a  pair  of  fine  mules,  to  the  Association  about 
40  miles  away.  I  had  high  hopes  for  my  member,  as 
it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  consented  to  be  a 
delegate. 

When  I  was  in  school  in  Kentucky,  I  attended  a 
great  old  Association.  On  some  occasion,  a  propo- 
sition was  made  that  a  collection  be  taken.  A  long, 
lean  preacher,  talking  in  a  slow,  long  drawn-out  sort 
of  way,  opposed,  saying:  "The  delegates  that  come 
to  Associations  are  generally  our  most  liberal  mem- 
bers— we  pull  them  at  home  for  money  and  when  they 
leave  their  business  and  their  families  to  come  to  the 
Association,  we  pull  'em  again."  I  am  sure  the 
speaker,  talking  on  any  other  subject,  w^ould  hardly 
have  been  listened  to,  but  they  voted  down  the  col- 
lection beautifully. 

I  tucked  away  that  speech  in  my  little  noggin  and 
said:  "I'll  use  that  some  day."  Here  I  was  at  my 
first  Association  in  my  native  State.  A  brother  moved 
to  take  a  collection  for  some  purpose.  I  have  no  idea 
what  it  was  for.  Young  fool  that  I  was,  it  made  no 
difference,  I  saw  a  chance  to  get  off  my  Kentucky 
speech  and  off  it  went.  It  took,  of  course,  and  the  col- 
lection was  voted  down,  good  and  strong.  When  we 
adjourned,  my  stingy  member  made  a  break  for  me, 
putting  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  he  patted  me  saying: 
'T'm  proud  of  you  pastor,  I  knowed  you  were  brave, 
but  I  didn't  believe  you'd  stand  up  so  strong  for  the 
right  in  a  place  like  this."     When  he  was  through  I 


150  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

began  to  realize  what  I  had  done.  I  said:  "My  broth- 
er, I  want  to  beg  your  pardon.  I  will  never  make  that 
foolish  speech  again.  I  never  dreamed  I  was  encour- 
aging the  stingy  members  until  you  spoke."  I  have 
■  heard  that  speech  often  made  by  others  and  it  is 
usually  as  popular  in  Alabama  as  in  Kentucky,  but 
never  have  I  made  it. 

CHAPTER  3. 

My  First  and  Last  Religious  Controversy. 

Dr.  David  Adams,  a  physician,  moved  to  Pine  Apple 
and  opened  an  office.  To  my  boyish  mind,  he  was  the 
finest  looking  man  I  ever  saw.  He  must  have  been 
over  six  feet  and  weighed  probably  200  pounds.  He 
was  a  fine  rider — I  see  him  now  as  he  gracefully 
mounts  a  fine  saddler  in  front  of  his  office,  directly  op- 
posite my  father's  house,  and  rides  away.  He  was  a 
Protestant  Methodist,  as  I  recollect.  At  Basket  Bot- 
tom, five  miles  away  in  the  pine  woods,  the  Christian 
Baptists,  as  the  Disciples  were  first  called,  began 
a  meeting,  and  a  great  sensation  was  created  when  it 
was  learned  that  Dr.  Adams  had  joined  them.  After 
a  time  the  doctor  married  Miss  Matt  Blankenship,  one 
of  the  finest  women  of  the  country.  He  became  a  life- 
time citizen  of  Pine  Apple.  He  bought  my  father's 
place,  became  a  preacher  and  did  a  large  practice  be- 
sides. 

I  mention  this  to  bridge  the  way  to  an  occurrence 
many  years  later.  Returning  to  Alabama  from  Ken- 
tucky, I  took  up  work  in  Dallas  County.  I  went  to  Wil- 
cox to  visit  my  sister.  At  Fatama,  Dr.  Adams,  with  an- 
other preacher,  was  holding  a  meeting.  My  sis- 
ter insisted  on  having  me  preach  at  the  Baptist  church. 
So  the  little  boys  and  I  went  up  on  Saturday  night  to 
Dr.  Adams'  meeting  to  have  my  service  announced 
for  Sunday  afternoon.    The  announcement  was  made, 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  151 

and  on  Sunday  afternoon  the  doctor  and  his  assistant 
took  front  seats,  with  Bible,  pencil  and  paper  in  hand, 
to  hear  the  boy  preacher. 

The  sermon  was  more  noise  than  anything  else, 
made  more  unintelligible  because  of  embrarrassment 
caused  by  the  attitude  of  the  preachers.  There  was  a 
great  congregation  of  Baptists,  Methodists  and  out- 
siders, and  a  few  Disciples,  who  were  a  feeble  folk 
in  those  parts. 

When  I  was  through  preaching  and  ready  to  return 
to  my  sister's,  the  doctor  insisted  that  I  should  accom- 
pany them  to  Brother  Mim's  residence,  where  we 
might  talk  over  our  differences.  This  I  declined, 
giving  as  a  reason  that  I'd  leave  my  sister  next  morn- 
ing and  wanted  to  be  with  her,  to  which  he  replied: 

^*We  ought  not  to  be  afrsud  to  talk  over  our  differ- 
ences." I  thought  I  could  hear  the  ring  of  a  challenge 
in  the  remark,  so  I  said:  "Afraid,  I'm  not  afraid.  If  you 
insist  we'll  swap  a  few  suggestions  right  here."  This 
was  a  pure  bluff  on  my  part,  for  in  a  controversy  with 
him  I  would  be  out  at  sea,  without  chart  or  compass. 
Fortunately  I  had  picked  up  in  Kentucky,  where  his 
people  were  numerous  and  extremely  controversial, 
all  the  essential  points  of  difference  between  them  and 
others.  I  was  especially  fortunate,  that  I  had  at- 
tended for  ten  days  a  meeting  at  Warsaw,  on  the  Ohio 
river,  conducted  by  Brother  Salin,  a  converted  Jew, 
who  was  espesially  up  on  controversy  with  the  Dr.'s 
peoples;  his  brogue,  the  aptness  of  his  illustrations  and 
anecdotes,  I  had  gotten  down  pat. 

I  had  sized  up  my  antagonist  as  long  winded  and  se- 
rious. So,  right  there  in  the  middle  of  the  hot  after- 
noon and  in  the  middle  of  the  house,  with  half  the 
crowd  on  the  outside,  we  began  the  spute.  In  a  little 
while  the  people  returned.  We  were  inching  towards 
the  door,  and  finally  were  on  solid  earth,  wnth  the  open 
heavens  over  us. 


152  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

I  dealt  out  my  anecdotes  sparingly  in  reply  to  his 
long  readings  of  the  Scriptures  and  his  comments 
thereon.  From  the  start  the  crowd  was  with  me,  main- 
ly, I  suppose,  because  of  my  youthful  appear- 
ance, and  the  high  esteem  in  which  my  sis- 
ter was  held  in  the  community.  Many  a  time 
when  I  was  a  plow-boy,  June  afternoons,  it 
looked  like  the  sun  would  reach  a  certain  spot  and 
hang  there.  I  would  go  round  after  round,  and  there  it 
hung,  as  if  it  would  never  go  down.  Well,  that's  the 
way  the  sun  seemed  to  behave  that  afternoon,  but  it 
was  gone  finally,  and  every  one  in  that  rural  commuity 
went  to  their  homes  to  talk  until  far  into  the  night  and, 
for  many  days  after,  I  guess,  about  what  had  taken 
place  at  old  Enon  Church.  I  met  the  Doctor  many 
times  after — we  were   always   good  friends. 

An  Autocratic  Preacher  in  a  Big  Association:  It 
was  in  a  fine  section  of  the  State,  just  emerging  from 
the  back  woods  period.  The  Association  was  a  fine 
body  of  people  with  many  churches.  Great  wealth 
began  to  be  developed.  The  body  had  never  done  any- 
thing, but  most  of  the  people  were  friendly  to  the  Sec- 
retary and  the  things  he  advocated.  The  trouble  was, 
there  was  no  cai>able  leader  imbued  with  the  mission- 
ary spirit.  One  man  stood  in  the  way  of  progress.  He 
was  aggressive  and  unscrupulous  and  bitter  against  ev- 
erything that  looked  like  progress,  especially  mis- 
sions. The  best  and  most  intelligent  people  in  the 
churches,  had  no  sympathy  with  his  opposition,  but 
there  was  not  a  preacher  to  oppose  his  influence  at  the 
Association  gatherings.  There  were  intelligent  lay- 
men who  could  have  defeated  his  schemes,  but  they 
were  timid.  The  Secretary  got  a  good  chance  at  three 
of  the  best  laymen  and  delivered  himself  about  thus : 
"You  three  brethren  see  the  situation  here,  I  know  it 
is  not  according  to  your  liking.  You  have  no  sympathy 
with  the  old  brother — ^\'ou  can  stop  him  and  turn  the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  153 

tide  towards  progress.  You  owe  it  to  the  cause  of 
the  Master  and  to  the  churches.  Why  don't  you  do  it?" 
One  responded  thus  :  "Brother  Secretary,  you  fail  to 
grasp  the  situation  in  this  county.  I  am  practicing 
law  and   I  hope    some   day    to    be    Judge.     Brother 

there,  is  in  the  Legislature  and  there  is  no 

telling  what  he  is  thinking  about  for  the  future,  maybe 
he  will  want  to  be  governor.  Brother is  al- 
ready in  office  and  he  wants  to  hold  on  to  his  job. 

That  leader  you  speak  of  leads  somewhere  else  be- 
sides in  the  Association.  We  know  he  is  not  doing  the 
right  thing  in  opposing  missions.  We  are  sorry  for  it, 
but  we  are  not  in  position  to  go  up  against  him,  for  he 
controls  a  lot  of  votes  in  this  county."  Of  course,  that 
speech  brought  on  a  big  laugh.  The  Secretary  re- 
plied: "You  are  treating  that  as  a  joke,  but  brother, 
you  never  told  a  more  solemn  truth  in  your  life  " 
Alas,  that  it  is  so.  Politics,  control  men  in  religious 
matters  to  a  shameful  degree.  The  old  man  is  now 
dead  and  so  is  the  law^yer.  The  fruit  of  the  seed-sow^- 
ing  of  that  day  is  hard  to  up-root,  but  progress  is  be- 
ing made  in  that  great  section  and  the  returns  from  the 
churches  are  constantly  on  the  increase.  God  rules 
and  autocracy,  whether  it  be  found  in  the  Kaiser,  in 
a  preacher  or  the  Pope  of  Rome  is  doomed.  But  the 
old  autocrat  had  a  preacher  son  who  is  not  an  opposer 
but  a  helper. 

An  Incident  at  a  Baptist  Rally:  At  one  of  the  Asso- 
ciations I  did  not  attend,  an  old  brother  opposed  vig- 
orously the  work  of  the  denomination,  especially  the 
Mission  Board.  He  made  little  impression  on  the  au- 
dience and,  probably  the  incident  would  have  been  for- 
gotten, but  a  brother  representing  another  interest, 
replied  and  showed  the  utter  absurdity  of  the  old 
brother's  position.  Maybe,  he  used  the  old  brother 
a  little  rough.  The  sympathy  of  the  audience  was  di- 
vided, much  of  it  going  to  the  old  man,  though  they 


154  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

knew  he  was  wrong.  The  result  was,  he  thought  he 
had  scored  a  great  hit  and  bragged  about  it.  He  ex- 
pressed a  great  desire  to  meet  the  Secretary  of  the 
Board,  that  he  might  do  him  up.  Some  young  people 
who  liked  the  Secretary  and  maybe  enjoyed  a  scrap, 
wrote  me.  Immediately,  a  program  was  arranged  for  a 
Baptist  Rally  in  that  section.  Great  crowds  gathered 
with  dinner  on  the  ground  for  two  days.  In  those 
days  the  Secretary  put  much  store  on  a  Missionary 
map.  On  one  corner  was :  "Ye  shall  be  witnesses,"  on 
the  other:  "Go  ye  into  all  the  world."  With  that 
map  every  objection  can  be  answered  in  the  most  ef- 
fective way  and  the  people  will  be  edified,  especially 
if  the  speaker  is  acquainted  with  missionaries  on  the 
field,  from  the  State.  That  was  the  Secretary's  biggest 
gun  and  he  determined  to  use  it  first.  After  going  at 
a  lively  rate  for  an  hour  or  more,  he  suddenly  closed 
with  a  request  that  the  old  opposer,  sitting  on  the 
front  bench,  should  pray.  He  undertook  it,  but  of  all 
the  prayers  ever  heard  in  those  parts,  that  was  the 
most  awkward.  He  would  make  a  break,  as  if  he  w^as 
going  to  ask  a  blessing  on  the  speaker,  but  his  heart 
would  fail  him.  Then  he  would  take  another  tack  and 
back  off  from  that,  after  see-sawing  back  and  forth, 
he  reached  the  terminal  station.  After  dinner  he  rode 
by  the  store,  telling  the  boys  he  rekin'd  he  couldn't  be 
back  next  day.  His  opposition  was  never  heard  of 
again.  Later  a  very  bright  son  of  his,  a  young  preach- 
er, graduated  at  the  Howard  and  now  stands  high  up 
among  the  best  of  our  younger  set  of  preachers. 

Attacks  on  Board  Repelled:  It  wasn't  all  smooth 
sailing  for  the  Secretary  as  the  following  incident 
will  show. 

Coming  into  the  audience  room,  when  the  East  Lib- 
erty Association  met  at  Roanoke,  I  was  informed 
that  a  brother  had  just  assailed  the  Mission  Board 
about  its  support  of  the  pastors  at  Auburn  and  Do- 


A   BOOK   OF   AIEMORIES.  155 

than.  The  Secretary  replied  about  as  follows :  "Ev- 
eryone knows  the  situation  at  Auburn,  it  is  near  you. 
The  Methodists  predominate,  the  Baptists  are  weak. 
They  say  they  are  not  able  to  support  a  man  for  all 
time.  They  want  to  have  preaching-  every  Sunday 
morning  and  night.  Out  of  six  hundred  boys,  perhaps 
half  of  them,  or  more,  are  from  Baptist  families.  The 
Board  thought,  one  of  the  best  ways  to  serve  the  de- 
nomination would  be  to  furnish  a  church  home  to  the 
Baptist  boys,  who  went  there  to  college.  The  church 
agreed  to  pay  so  much,  if  the  Board  would  do  so 
much.  We  presumed  the  church  was  telling  the  truth 
when  they  said  they  could  do  no  more,  Brother  Lloyd 
who  is  present,  was  the  pastor  and  he  signed  the  ap- 
plication. There  are  droves  of  Baptist  men  and  women 
here  who  have  sons  there,  or  have  had.  I  wouldn't  be 
afraid  to  put  it  to  a  vote  to  see  what  they  thought 
of  the  Board's  policy.  I  am  sure  they  would  sustain 
the  Board."  All  over  the  house  there  was  almost 
unanimous  bowing  of  heads  in  approval. 

"Then,"  said  the  Secretary,  "There  is  Dothan.  The 
facts  are  these :  "I  was  there  four  years  ago  and  found 
a  church  with  a  small  membership,  worshiping 
once  a  month,  in  an  old,  unceiled  building — that  in  a 
town  rapidly  growing  into  a  city.  With  only  a  casual 
investigation,  I  found  more  than  one  hundred  Baptists 
w^ho  didn't  go  to  church — they  were  ashamed  of  the 
building.  They  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of 
themselves  to  have  thought,  or  talked  that  way ;  but 
we  must  take  people  as  they  are. 

I  got  Brother  Burr  of  Columbia,  to  visit  Dothan 
on  some  occasions.  In  a  little  while  he  was 
called.  After  visiting  and  rallying  the  forces 
somewhat,  the  church  petitioned  the  Board  for 
$200  aid.  It  was  granted  and  Burr,  a  natural  and 
a  well-trained  mechanic,  besides  being  an  educated, 
hard-working  preacher,  with  a  Judson  graduate  for  a 


156  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

help-meet — and  let  me  tell  you  she  helped,  he  took 
charge  for  full  time,  not  once  a  month  as  of  old.  He 
drew  up  plans  for  a  $20,000  building.  All  the  people 
of  the  town  became  interested.  Large  sums  were 
given  by  outsiders,  because  they  had  faith  in  Burr  and 
wanted  to  boost  the  town  by  erecting  this  great  build- 
ing. Each  year  the  church  has  paid,  in  contributions 
to  the  denomination,  more  than  we  paid  them.  This 
is  the  third  and  last  year,  when  we  will  turn  over  to 
the  denomination  an  organization  of  over  300  members 
and  a  church  property  worth  more  than  $20,000,  all 
at  the  expenditure  of  $600  which  the  church  more 
than  paid  back  to  us  each  year.  I  want  to  ask,  what 
Baptist  here  will  accuse  the  Board  of  bad  financing 
in  that  case.  There's  not  a  man  who  will  rise  and 
say  it."  When  I  was  about  to  take  my  seat,  while 
an  announcement  was  being  made,  the  big-hearted 
Moderator,  John  P.  Shaffer,  drew  me  down  to  him 
saying,  "don't  be  disturbed  about  the  East  Liberty. 
All  this  hullabaloo  comes  from  men  who  are  visitors 
here  from  another  Association." 

CHAPTER  4. 

A  Few  of  the  Great  Women  Workers  I  Have  Known : 

A  great  army  of  women,  whose  names  are  only  re- 
corded in  heaven,  have  contributed  to  the  on-going  of 
the  kingdom  in  Alabama.  In  the  New  Testament  it 
is  called  "Ministering,"  and  so  it  will  ever  be,  the  same 
modest,  unselfish  service  rendered  to  their  Lord  and  to 
His  apostles,  and,  in  these  last  times,  to  His  servants 
in  their  labors  in  building  the  Kingdom.  The  Alabama 
historian  tells  us  of  Seven  Womens  Societies  in  the 
State,  which  figured  in  the  organization  of  the  State 
Convention  in  its  first  meeting  in  1823.  That  was  a 
surprise  to  the  men  of  that  day  and  probably  to  the 
women  as  well,  for  it  is  doubtful  if  one  society  knew 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  157 

of  the  existence  of  the  others.  Little  groups  of  loving 
hearts,  in  times  when  women  were  not  expected  to 
be  active,  covenanted  together  to  knit  socks  and  do 
other  things,  to  bring  in  offerings  for  their  Lord  and 
His  servants. 

Not  until  the  time  when  the  organization  of  God's 
forces  began  to  be  talked,  did  they  venture  to  let 
themselves  be  known. 

Long  after  this,  the  position  of  woman  in  the  activi- 
ties of  the  churches,  had  to  be  threshed  out,  among 
the  Baptists  of  the  State.  Not  a  few  of  the  preachers, 
some  of  considerable  influence,  were  opposed  and  oth- 
ers were  doubtful — I  among  them,  I  am  almost 
ashamed  to  acknowledge.  But  the  good  Lord  saved 
us  from  any  wrangling  about  it.  We  were  exceeding- 
ly fortunate  in  having  great  women  to  lead  the  move- 
ment. 

Mrs.  A.  T.  Hamilton  comes  to  my  mind  first.  A  dear, 
sweet  soul  she  was  !  A  gentle  woman ;  never  once  did 
she  do  an  unwomanly  thing.  Brought  up  in  the  idea 
that  a  woman  should  not  speak  before  mixed  assem- 
blies, not  once  did  she  ever  swerve  from  that  idea, 
though  oft  times  the  brethren  would  have  been  great- 
ly benefited  by  hearing  her.  I  traveled  thousands  of 
miles  with  her  in  all  sorts  of  weather  and  in  all  sorts 
of  conveyances.  How  she  could  edify  and  instruct  in 
conversation.  How  beautifully  she  could  adapt  her 
conversation  to  the  needs  of  her  hearers ! 

She  had  a  prince  of  a  man  for  a  husband.  He  was 
not  a  member  of  the  church,  much  to  her  sorrow,  but 
surely  he  must  have  had  a  heart  right  with  God.  A 
gentleman  of  the  old  school,  was  he.  His  devotion  to 
his  wife  was  beautiful.  "Will  you  have  any  one  to 
meet  you  at  the  train  at  this  late  hour?"  I  asked  as 
we  were  nearing  Birmingham  on  a  belated  train.  "No 
doubt    about    that,"   she    confidently    replied.     Sure 


158  A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES. 

enough,  there  was  the  Colonel ;  he  had  been  waiting 
for  hours. 

Our  Woman  and  Sunbeam  work  was  put  on  a  sure 
foundation  by  Mrs.  Hamilton.  What  a  band  of  work- 
ers she  had  to  help  her  too,  in  the  beginning !  Mrs. 
I.  C.  Brown  and  Mrs.  Stratton  and  others.  Mrs.  Brown 
to  be  followed  by  her  noble  daughter,  Hermian,  now 
Mrs.  Malone. 

Kathleen  Mallory:  I  have  known  since  she  was  a 
small  child.  Reared  in  such  a  home,  in  such  a  church, 
she  was  wonderfully  equipped  for  the  work  to  which 
she  was  called.  How  God  has  honored  and  crowned 
her  work ! 

The  first  Secretary  of  the  W.  M.  U.  of  Alabama, 
now  the  great  leader  of  the  Baptist  Women  of  the 
South,  her  valuable  services  are  every  where  acknowl- 
edged. 

A  pall  of  sadness  swept  over  Alabama  when 
the  tragic  death  of  Julia  Ward  was  flashed  over  the 
wires.  Burned  to  death,  just  as  she  was  entering  upon 
her  duties  as  the  successor  of  Miss  Mallory.  I  knew 
her  devoted  parents  well.  Captain  W.  C.  Ward,  a  brave 
Confederate  soldier,  long  a  member  of  the  Mission 
Board,  was  one  of  the  most  active  laymen  among  the 
Baptists  of  the  State.  They  were  proud  of  their  no- 
ble daughter  and  when  she  was  called  to  the  respon- 
sible place  of  leader  in  the  woman's  work,  their  hearts 
overflowed  with  enthusiasm,  for  they  well  knew  how 
she  had  been  prepared  in  every  way  for  the  respon- 
sible place. 

Flossie  White:  I  knew  well  in  her  preacher-fath- 
er's home.  Her  fortunate  Missionary-husband,  I  never 
saw,  until  he  returned  as  the  husband  of  that  noble 
girl.  God  gave  her  a  sweet  disposition,  winning  man- 
ners and  a  tender  heart  and  I  know  she  found  easy 
entrance  into  the  hearts  of  the  heathen. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  159 

Lois  Davie:  A  beloved  daughter  of  our  Consecrated 
Colporter,  Bunyan  Davie,  wdth  her  princely  husband, 
Napier,  a  Georgian,  who  was  a  beloved  pastor  in  Ala- 
bama and  Miss  Alice  Huey,  from  our  greatest  county 
of  Jefferson,  I  can  only  mention.  Both  were  Judson 
girls  and  they  are  honored  by  the  brotherhood  as  a 
part  of  Alabama's  contribution  to  the  great  world's 
evangelization. 

Addie  Cox,  of  Pickens,  a  graduate  of  Central  Col- 
lege, Tuscaloosa,  came  to  the  Mission  rooms  as  one 
of  the  workers  in  the  W.  M.  U.  department.  Her 
bouyant  spirit,  felt  the  pull  of  the  outdoor  work  and 
she  became  an  indomitable  field  worker.  In  every 
corner  of  the  State  her  bright  face  and  charming  ways, 
won  the  hearts  of  old  and  young,  while  she  waited 
impatiently  for  two  years  for  the  answer  of  the  For- 
eign Board  to  her  application,  to  go  to  the  heathen. 
She  is  to  be  heard  from  some  day  as  one  of  our 
greatest. 

How  my  heart  runs  out  to  the  missionary  force  on 
the  Foreign  field !  They  do  well  the  work  there, 
thinking  only  of  the  task  before  them,  little  dreaming 
of  the  work  they  are  doing  in  the  home  land  as  well 
Their  devotion  is  talked  of  around  the  family  circle 
and  in  the  churches — even  the  children  know  their 
names. 

They  are  the  inspiration  to  keep  alive  the  missionary 
zeal  in  those  at  home  and  they  are  the  magnets  who 
draw  others  into  the  work. 

Martha  Foster,  probably  the  first  woman  missionary 
to  go  from  the  South,  became  the  wife  of  Dr.  Craw- 
ford. Doubtless  her  letters  influenced  others  to  go. 
In  the  same  Association,  the  Union,  Miss  Thornton, 
went  and  now  Addie  Cox,  doubtless  influenced  by  the 
consecrated  Foster  girl,  of  whom  she  had  heard  all 
her  life. 


160  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

A  letter  from  Miss  Lottie  Moon  in  the  Foreign 
Mission  Journal,  put  the  missionary  thought  in  the 
mind  of  Miss  Willie  Kelly.  So  it  has  gone  from  the 
start,  God  using  one  to  influence  another. 

Maybe  one  of  the  joys  of  heaven,  will  be  the  gather- 
ing up  of  the  threads  of  influence  and  tracing  them  in 
all  their  ramifications. 

Laura  Lee  Patrick  and  Clyde  Metcalf  are  two  names 
which  will  live  forever,  for  what  they  have  done  in  or- 
ganizing the  women  and  the  young  people  so  thor- 
oughly in  Alabama.  The  foundations  were  well  laid 
and  they  have  been  wise  and  faithful  in  their  building. 
Looking  at  the  beautiful,  systematic  way  these  girls 
and  the  women  have  done,  I  have  often  been  ashamed 
of  myself  and  the  men. 

I  could  sit  for  hours  here  and  follow  my  wanderings 
over  the  State  and  call  up  from  memory  the  royal  wo- 
men who  ministered  to  me  in  my  travels.  Many  of 
them  are  now  with  the  Master  who  knows  all  they  did 
for  his  servants.  Maybe  some  of  them  who  are  yet 
alive,  will  see  these  lines  of  appreciation,  though  their 
names  cannot  be  recalled. 

A  Few  of  the  Missionaries  I  Have  Known. 

John  McCollum:  A  Dallas  County  farm  boy,  a  fa- 
vorite with  all  who  knew  him,  a  born  gentleman, 
bright  and  eager  to  learn ;  a  good  student,  he  won  the 
heart  and  hand  of  Dru  Collins,  a  Hale  County  girl,  a 
graduate  of  the  Judson.  When  God  touched  his  heart 
to  leave  all  and  go  to  Japau,  he  yielded  and  entered 
upon  the  task  joyfully.  This  is  the  mental  picture  I 
have  drawn  of  him ;  but  it  is  so  inadequate,  I  have 
asked  one  who  knew  him  best  to  touch  up  the  pic- 
ture for  my  Book  of  Memories,  here  he  speaks : 

"I  was  with  McCollum  almost  constantly  for  five 
years.  He  was  my  room-mate  at  the  Seminary,  class- 
mate and  yoke-fellow  in  every  work.  During  all  this 
time,  I  never  knew  him  to  do    or    say    the    slightest 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  161 

thing  his  mother  might  not  have  seen  or  heard  with 
pleasure ;  or  that  would  have  brought  a  blush  to  the 
cheek  of  the  purest  girl.  Withal,  he  was  one  of  the 
strongest  characters  and  one  of  the  manliest  men  I 
ever  knew.  He  had  the  unbounded  confidence  of  ev- 
ery man  of  worth,  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 
When  he  went  to  Japan,  he  determined  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  people  in  their  native  tongue  and  do  it 
with  ease.  He  really  mastered  the  difficult  language 
and  came  to  be  one  of  the  foremost  preachers  in  the 
Empire.  In  demand  every  where  and  utterly  reck- 
less as  to  limits  of  human  strength,  he  sought  to  en- 
ter all  the  doors  open  to  him.  The  inevitable  break 
down  came  while  in  the  zenith  of  his  complete  man- 
hood. With  the  hand  of  death  upon  him,  he  fought 
his  battle  for  a  few  brief  years  and  died  at  Seattle.  I 
have  been  told,  that  his  last  words, were:  "Banzai! 
Banzai !  the  Japanese  cry  of  Victory." 

George  Bouildin.  from  one  of  the  finest  families  in 
Jackson  County,  surprised  his  people  by  announcing 
his  purpose  to  go  to  the  missionary  field.  I  wish  I 
knew  what  the  influences  were  that  led  him  to  this 
conclusion.  His  has  never  been  rated  as  a  missionary 
section.  Indeed  there  was  a  time  when  there  was 
much  opposition  to  Foreign  missions  in  all  that  re- 
gion. I  am  sure  his  going  and  his  few  visits  on  his 
returns,  have  had  a  wholesome  effect  on  his  neigh- 
bors.   Good  reports  come  of  the  work  he  is  doing. 

I  have  great  admiration  for  meiiical  missionaries: 
Alabama  has  some  to  be  proud  of.  Adrian  Taylor,  the 
son  of  the  President  of  a  Rail  Road,  reared  in  a  city 
much  given  to  frivolity,  but  splendidly  educated  and 
prepared  in  every  way  to  become  a  doctor,  looking 
about  for  the  place  where  his  Kfe  would  count  for  most, 
turned  his  eyes  toward  China,  He  had  been  religiously 
reared  in  a  Christian  home  and  in  the  old  St.  Francis 
Street   Church,    Mobile.     He   won   the   heart   of   the 


162  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

beautiful  and  accomplished  daughter  of  the  pastor, 
Annie  Cox.  Before  they  were  married  she  knew  of 
all  his  plans  and  readily  entered  into  them.  Out  of 
the  same  family  God  called  another,  a  younger  broth- 
er, Richard.  He  too,  dedicated  his  fine  medical  train- 
ing to  the  work  in  China.  After  serving  the  Board 
for  a  time  and  accomplishing  great  things  for  God 
and  humanity,  Adrian  is  now  in  the  Great  Rockefeller 
Institution  at  Pekin,  while  Richard  is  distinguishing 
himself  in  Hospital  Work  under  the  Board. 

The  noble  family,  the  grand  old  Church,  the  De- 
nomination and  the  State  are  all  honored  by  the  splen- 
did offering  these  young  men  have  made  to  the  Cause 
of  Him  who  went  about  "curing  all  manner  of  sick- 
nesses." 

Another  beloved  physician  is  : 

Dr.  T.  W.  Ayers,  a  native  of  Georgia,  but  long 
enough  in  Alabama  for  us  to  have  a  claim  on  him.  He 
was  a  man  in  middle  life,  with  a  good  practice,  a  con- 
secrated church  worker.  He  saw  the  wide  open  door 
in  China  and  entered,  the  Spirit  of  the  Master  leading. 
As  he  ministers  in  the  hospitals  and  tells  the  patients 
of  the  love  of  the  Master  and  how  the  good  Spirit  led 
the  way  of  his  coming,  the  heathen  becomes  interested 
in  the  story,  his  mind  is  filled  with  wonder  that  one 
should  care  so  much  for  him  and  as  he  rejoices  over 
the  healing  of  his  body,  his  mind  is  filled  with  admi- 
ration for  the  missionary  and  the  love  of  God  posses- 
ses him  and  sends  him  out  an  evangel  to  his  fellows. 
And  yet,  there  are  men  in  civilized  and  Christian  Amer- 
ica, who  are  mean  enough  to  cry  down  the  medical 
work  of  our  Boards.  Some  of  it  comes  from  mis-in- 
formation, but  not  a  little  of  it  is  from  unadulterated 
meanness — diabolism  of  the  blackest  tjrpe.  I  have  in 
mind  now,  a  man  who  is  aspiring  to  a  great  office  in  a 
Southern  State  and  is  likely  to  get  it,  who  delights  to 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  163 

write  cruel  things  about  the  medical  missionaries,  of 
whom  he  knows  nothing;  all  for  the  sole  purpose  to 
pander  to  the  prejudice  of  the  readers  of  his  paper. 

CHAPTER  5. 

My  first  attendance  at  Southern  Baptist  Conven- 
tion: I  am  almost  ashamed  to  undertake  to  tell  it, 
because,  I  got  so  little  out  of  it. 

I  was  like  many  another  young  fellow — just  sloshing 
along  and  carrying  off  only  that  which  would  stick, 
with  no  particular  effort  on  my  part  to  retain  it.  Won- 
der if  most  of  us  do  not  go  through  a  dreamy  state  ev- 
en after  we  become  grown  men !  In  after  years,  it 
seems  unaccountable  that  we  dreamed  so  long.  I 
preached  a  commencement  sermon  from  the 
text:  **And  the  angel  that  talked  with  me  came  again 
and  waked  me."  If  any  young  preacher  wants  to  use 
that  text,  I  would  advise  him  to  preach  it  first  to  him- 
self. I  am  persuaded  most  of  us  are  asleep  and  some 
will  never  wake.  The  angel  comes,  one  way  or  an- 
other, to  do  the  job,  but  we  are  doped  beyond  hope  of 
arousement. 

But  to  my  subject:  It  was  in  Mobile,  in  my  native 
State,  in  1873.  I  had  been  a  country  pastor  for  two 
years,  was  thirty-one  years  of  age.  In  these  days, 
we  had  a  few  papers,  the  Alabama  Baptist  was  not 
yet.  The  churches  never' dreamed  of  sending  a  pas- 
tor to  the  Conventions,  and  not  many  of  the  pastors 
thought  about  going.  It  was  easy  for  me  to  step 
aboard  a  steam-boat  and  float  to  Mobile.  Doctor  Boyce 
was  the  President,  M.  B.  Wharton  was  Secretary,  and 
Doctor  Tiberius  Gracus  Jones  preached  the  sermon. 
Only  two  things  made  a  lasting  impression  on  my  mind. 

One  was  the  sermon  J.  R.  Graves  preached  to  a  great 
audience  at  the  Broad  Street  Baptist  Church.  The 
growling  of  the   Landmark  Baptists  about  his  being 


164  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

put  off  in  a  small  church,  I  distinctly  remember.  I  was 
among  the  complainers,  but  I  have  long  come  to  re- 
alize that  it  couldn't  be  helped.  That  was  before  the 
days  of  auditoriums  and  before  the  days  of  great  Con- 
ventions, as  we  now  have.  The  church  houses  furn- 
ished ample  room  for  all  the  delegates  and  a  good  au- 
dience besides.  Graves  never  preached  that  he  didn't 
"stir  up  the  animals."  Of  course  he  couldn't  be  sent 
to  a  church  of  another  denomination  for  fear  he  would 
flay  them  alive ;  besides  two  or  three  hours  was  longer 
than  the  fashionable  churches  could  stand.  Lincoln 
said :  "Those  that  like  that  sort  of  a  thing,  that  is 
the  sort  of  a  thing  they  like."  We  fellows  that  liked 
that  sort  of  a  thing,  never  tired.  I  said  to  a  starchy, 
young  preacher  as  we  were  coming  away  from  Mobile : 
*T  remember  seeing  you  out  to  hear  Graves.  What 
did  you  think  of  it?"  With  a  toss  of  the  head,  he  said: 
''Pshaw!  There  was  an  utter  disregard  of  all  the 
rules  of  homiletics."  I  hushed  up,  for  I  didn't  know 
the  meaning  of  the  word,  and  had  to  look  in  the  dic- 
tionary to  find  out.  I  afterwards  repeated  the  young 
man's  remark  to  Doctor  Teague,  a  grand  old  man  up 
country,  whereupon  he  said :  "Homiletics,  fiddlesticks! 
That  reminds  me:  A  preacher,  who  was  considered  a 
very  able  man,  was  carrying  on  a  meeting  with  no  re- 
sults. A  country,  exhorting  sort  of  a  preacher  hap- 
pened in  and  the  congregation  insisted  that  he  be 
heard.  He  put  on  the  rousements  towards  the  close, 
and,  according  to  custom,  called  up  mourners.  It 
k)oked  like  the  whole  congregation  made  a  rush  to 
give  the  hand  to  the  preacher.  The  exhorter  contin- 
ued, until  there  was  a  great  revival.  The  pastor  talking 
to  the  humble  brother  said:  T  can't  understand  how 
my  preaching  failed  and  your  exhortations  succeeded: 
How  do  you  account  for  it?'  'Well,'  said  the  brother, 
*I  know  I  can't  preach  like  you,  but 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  165 

I  bring  down  the  simmons,  and  that  was  what  we 
was  both  after.* "  Graves  could  certainly  "bring  down 
the  'simmons,'  "  when  it  came  to  pleasing  the  strenu- 
ous Baptist  gang.  But  as  a  church  builder,  preaching 
a  world-wide  gospel  to  move  people  to  undertake  great 
things  for  God,  he  was  a  failure,  as  are  most  of  the 
preachers  who  are  eternally  whetting  knives  to  go  out 
after  the  scalps  of  errorists.  They  get  the  scalps,  but 
the  world  is  not  evangelized. 

I  am  glad  I  heard  Graves  and  read  after  him.  I  am 
all  the  better  for  it ;  but  long  ago  I  have  concluded 
to  weigh  Baptists  by  what  they  do,  not  by  their  sound- 
ness in  doctrine.  Soundness  that  doesn't  move  people 
to  open  their  purses,  is  simple  rot.  The  worst  heresy 
on  earth,  is  anti-missionism  and  omissionism  is  not  a 
whit  better. 

One  other  thing  I  remember  at  the  Convention : 
There  were  quite  a  number  of  fine  young  fellows  from 
the  Seminary  w^ith  jim-s wingers  and  stove-pipe  hats 
on.  They  were  flitting  in  and  out  and  were  often  bois- 
terous. General  Lowry,  an  old  Brigadier-General 
preacher,  of  Mississippi,  asked  who  they  were.  On 
being  informed,  he  remarked:  "A  bank  of  potatoes 
must  always  go  through  a  sweat.  The  boys  are  in 
the  sweating  stage  now." 

The  Sad  Story  of  Pelham  Heights!  As  this  is  an 
important  item. of  x\labama  Baptist  history,  with  which 
I  had  something  to  do,  and  it  can  be  found  nowhere 
else,  I  must  not  leave  it  out  of  these  Memories  ;  but 
I  feel  like  putting  around  the  page  a  black  border. 

My  heart  was  enlisted  in  the  movement  from  the 
moment  I  saw  the  first  mention  of  "Summer  Activi- 
ties," which  some  of  the  States  had  successfully  put 
over.  In  the  1906  report  of  the  Mission  Board  atten- 
tion was  called  to  it  and  a  committee  was  appointed  to 
arrange  for  an  encampment  the  next  year,  but  some 
of  the  timorous  brethren  suggested  the  amendment: 


166  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

"That  no  liability  be  incurred,  that  would  involve  the 
Convention."  The  program  was  arranged  and  East 
Lake  was  named  as  the  place.  Just  before  the  time, 
a  street  car  strike  was  on  and  the  committee,  taking 
cold  feet,  declared  the  Encampment  off.  The  next 
year  the  committee  reported  that  it  was  not  feasible 
to  undertake  the  Encampment  so  long  as  the  Conven- 
tion was  held  in  the  summer.  Two  summer  meetings 
were  not  deemed  possible. 

As  the  time  of  the  Albertville  Convention  approach- 
ed, in  1910,  I  took  a  day  off  and  visited  Shelby  Springs. 
Satisfied  with  my  investigations,  I  requested  A.  G. 
Moseley,  one  of  the  old  committee  and  a  man  admi- 
rably fitted  for  the  job,  to  go  to  Shelby  and  bring  to  the 
Convention  a  proposition.  This  he  did,  but  for  some 
reason  not  a  line  can  be  found  about  it  in  the  Minutes 
of  the  Convention.  However,  the  Laymen  consid- 
ered the  matter  from  Brother  Moseley,  and  appointed 
a  Commission  to  take  over  the  Encampment  Move- 
ment. Thus  it  was  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Con- 
vention, and  surprising  to  say,  no  mention  was  made 
in  the  minutes  for  several  years,  and  then  only  in  an 
incidental  way.  What  its  plans  were,  and  what  it  ac- 
compHshed  and  what  it  hoped  for,  was  never  mention- 
ed in  the  way  of  a  report,  though  it  was  known  to 
all,  that  successful  sessions  of  the  Encampment  were 
held  for  a  number  of  years.  The  Commission,  ambi- 
tious to  do  something  worthy  the  denomination,  pur- 
chased 55  acres  of  mountain  land  a  mile  from  Pelham, 
20  miles  south  of  Birmingham,  on  the  L.  &  N.  Build- 
ings were  erected  and  equipped,  a  graded  road  circled 
around  the  mountain  and  water  and  electricity  were 
provided. 

Never  were  people  so  happy  over  anything!  Glo- 
rious fellowship  of  the  saints  Ave  enjoyed  for  eight 
years.    But  alas,  debts  had  been  incurred,  interest  and 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  167 

insurance  had  to  be  paid,  and  constant  repairs  called 
for  the  ready  cash. 

The  property  could  be  used  for  only  about  six  weeks 
in  the  year,  and  never  until  just  before  the  closing  out 
did  we  learn  how  to  make  it  pay  its  way.  Worse 
still,  if  possible,  a  caretaker  could  not  be  had,  and  the 
vandals  had  free  swing  to  pillage  and  destroy.  Added 
to  all  other  misfortunes  and  mishaps,  the  war  came  on. 
So  Pelham  had  to  be  abandoned.  The  property  and 
debts  were  all  turned  over  to  the  Convention. 

A  Colossal  Baptist  Blunder,  some  one  may  call  it. 
But  where  is  the  mathematician  who  can  figure  out 
in  dollars  and  cents  the  value  of  Spiritual  Efforts? 
The  blessings  that  came  to  the  Baptists  of  Alabama  in 
the  eight  years  of  effort  put  forth  at  Pelham,  are  far 
beyond  the  value  of  the  money  spent  there.  It  was  not 
lost.  It  was  only  "a  handful  of  com  plzinted  on  the 
top  of  the  mountain ;  the  fruit  thereof  shakes  like  Leb- 
anon." 

The  unity,  the  fellowship,  the  enthusiasm  engender- 
ed at  Pelham,  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  the  suc- 
cess of  the  75  million  campaign,  which  came  on  later. 
If  the  little  streams  that  flowed  out  from  that  moun- 
tain retreat  could  be  gathered  up  what  oceans  of 
blessings  would  be  ours ! 

Bailey  and  Colportage.  Secretary  Bailey  conceived 
the  idea  of  establishing  Permanent  Colportage  Funds. 
The  plan  was  to  get  a  church  or  an  Association  to 
raise  $100  for  a  Fund,  to  be  named  after  some  old  hero, 
or  the  church.  The  idea  was  that  the  profits  on  the 
books  would  pay  expenses.  Each  colporter  was  to 
give  a  bond  of  $100.  I  never  saw  a  prettier  thing  work- 
ed out  on  paper.  Something  over  $2,000  was  given 
for  the  purpose,  the  Sunday  School  of  the  First  Church 
at  Montgomery  leading. 


168  A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES. 

We  found  out  several  things  later. 

Baptists  didn't  run  over  one  another  to  buy  books : 

Some  books  they  wouldn't  buy  at  all ; 

Books  could  be  worn  out  hauling  them  about ; 

Only  a  few  men  would  make  good  Colporters,  but 
almost  every  man  without  a  job,  was  willing  to  try; 

Some  Colporters  were  not  honest; 

Some  bondsmen  would  allow  themselves  sued  be- 
fore they  would  settle  for  a  defaulter ; 

Baptists  were  not  a  reading  people,  was  the  sad- 
dest discovery  of  all. 

When  I  became  Secretary,  I  began  to  try  to  get  set- 
tlements with  the  colporters.  I  had  a  lawsuit  with  one 
man,  a  Presbyterian,  who  went  on  the  bond  of  a  ne- 
gro Baptist  preacher.  I  won  the  case,  but  that  was 
my  last  lawsuit.  I  compromised  everything  for  any- 
thing. I  found  hundreds  of  dollars  were  due  on  open 
account — most  of  which  I  never  collected.  Finally,  I 
found  myself  in  possession  of  $1500  worth  of  second- 
hand books  and,  maybe,  $500  in  money. 

It  was  an  awful  waste  of  time  to  the  Secretary,  as  I 
had  not  a  soul  to  help  in  the  office.  I  didn't  write  the 
most  legible  hand,  but  I  kept  up  my  correspondence, 
after  a  fashion.  The  Secretary  became  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  book  business  and  firmly  impressed  with 
its  value  to  our  people.  All  the  losses  were  well 
spent,  to  impress  that  thought  upon  him,  as  subse- 
quent facts  will  show. 

To  organize  a  Colportage  Board  to  be  located  at 
Opelika.  Books  valued  at  $1,188.17,  accounts  to  be 
collected  $583.90  and  $600  in  cash  were  turned  over  to 
the  new  Board.  The  Secretary  felt  sure  trouble  would 
come  and,  it  did.  A  few  members  of  the  new  Board 
sought  to  make  the  Colportage  Board  the  Board  of  the 
Convention.  They  clamored  for  a  corresponding  Sec- 
retary, besides  an  office  Secretary.    Friction  was  ere- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  169 

ated  by  the  two  boards  occupying  the  same  territory, 
each  appealing  to  the  same  constituency  for  funds. 

The  Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board  persisted  in  at- 
tending the  Associations  in  East  Alabama,  as  he  had 
been  doing  before.  This  annoyed  some  members  of 
the  Opelika  Board. 

Not  all  the  members  of  that  Board  approved  of  all 
that  was  said  and  done,  but  they,  peaceable  set  that 
they  were,  kept  quiet,  while  others  raved.  The  fric- 
tion was  unpleasant  and  the  denomination  was  becom- 
ing divided.  The  matter  was  finally  settled  at  the 
Convention  at  Anniston,  three  years  after  the  organi- 
zation of  the  Colportage  Board,  in  what  was  called  a 
"Compromise."  The  two  Boards  were  consolidated 
and  located  at  Montgomery — the  Corresponding  Sec- 
retary of  the  Mission  Board  and  the  Office  Secretary 
of  the  Colportage  Board  being  retained.  The  Mis- 
sion Board  assumed  all  the  debts  of  the  Colportage 
Board,  of  which  there  were  many,  and  took  back  a 
stock  of  second-hand  books. 

So  ends  chapter  two  on  Colportage.  While  I  am  at 
it,  I  had  as  well  give  here  chapter  three. 

When  I  resigned  to  go  to  Kentucky,  W.  C.  Bledsoe 
of  East  Alabama,  was  chosen  as  my  successor. 

When  I  took  up  the  task  again,  three  years  later,  I 
found  that  the  book  business  had  been  closed  out,  by 
order  of  the  Board,  never  again  to  be  taken  up.  In 
the  final  settlement,  all  the  remaining  stock  of  books 
had  been  turned  over  to  the  office  Secretary, 
who  undertook  to  run  it  as  a  side  line. 

I  was  unhappy  over  the  loss  of  the  '^Permanent 
Fund"  which  I  had  helped  much  in  establishing.  I  was 
sure  our  people  needed  to  becom'e  a  reading  people 
and  the  best  mission  work  that  could  be  done  was  to 
work  at  the  business.  That  Permanent  Fund  was  a 
Trust  Fund.  It  was  not  honest  to  give  up  trying  to 
save  it,  so,  without  saying  anything  to  the  Board  about 


170  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

it  ,  I  began  to  rebuild  the  walls  that  had  been  thrown 
down. 

First  I  aboHshed  the  credit  system.  Some  Baptists 
are  forgetful  about  small  debts.  My  plan  was  to  take 
two  or  three  good  books  on  my  trips.  Before  I  made 
my  speech,  or  preached  my  sermon,  in  every  place, 
I  exhibited  these  books,  went  over  in  brief  the  table  of 
contents  and  after  the  sermon,  took  orders  for  them.  A 
small  profit  from  every  such  sale  went  into  the  Fund. 
I  would  close  my  speech  about  the  books  by  saying,  I'd 
be  glad  to  have  something  for  the  Colportage  and 
Tract  Fund.  No  collections  were  taken,  but  brethren 
would  hand  me  something  for  it.  Thus  the  work  of 
rebuilding  went  on,  until  now  in  1919,  we  have  a  fund 
of  $2,979.83  besides  a  large  stock  of  books,  a  Colporter 
in  the  field,  traveling  in  an  Auto^  selling  thousands  of 
books  and  distributing  many  thousands  of  tracts.  The 
Fund  is  secure,  by  loaning  the  unused  part  to  the  Mis- 
sion Department  of  the  Board  at  6%,  and  paying  the 
Colporter  a  salary  out  of  the  Mission  funds. 

After  all  the  mistakes  and  blunders,  something  has 
come  of  Colportage  in  Alabama,  of  which  I  am  most 
happy.  We  will  probably  make  other  mistakes,  but 
no  mistake  would  be  comparable  to  the  one  we  would 
make,  if  we  should  settle  down  to  the  idea  that  Bap- 
tists cannot  become  a  reading  people.  That  would  be 
the  same  as  to  decree  them  to  an  inferior  place  in  the 
world.  I  would  be  most  happy  if,  before  I  am  called 
home,  I  could  see  the  Colportage  Fund  grow  to  $10,000. 
That  would  give  a  good  working  capital,  which  we 
very  much  need. 

Make  a  Will,  Do  It  Now. 

"Property  is  Never  Without  an  Owner.  If  you  fail 
to  make  valid  disposition  of  your  property  by 
will,  the  law  directs  who  shall  receive  it  upon  your 
death.  A  distribution  made  by  law,  may  be  alto- 
gether dififerent  from  what  you  might  have  desired. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  171 

Men  should  not  be  more  indifferent,  when  they  come 
to  make  the  final  disposition  of  their  property  than 
they  have  been  in  their  lifetime,  while  striving  to  ac- 
cumulate the  property.  They  keep  a  watchful  eye  on 
their  holdings  in  the  days  of  their  strength  and  activ- 
ity. Why  in  the  end,  should  they  neglect  to  make  the 
final  provision  which  may  protect  the  property  from 
dissolution,  or  wdiich  may  avert  endless  family  bick- 
erings. Will-making  does  not  hasten  one's  death." 

Montgomery  Advertiser. 

Sound  Advice  that  Brother;  Read  it  Again. 

An  old  man  of  eighty,  said  to  the  President  of  a 
Southern  College:  "I  have  a  great  property  here. 
All  those  who  are  my  heirs,  are  well  provided  for.  I 
want  to  leave  my  estate  to  some  good  purpose.  I  have 
been  thinking  of  an  Industrial  Department  in  your  Col- 
lege, where  poor  boys  and  girls  might  come  and  learn 
books  and  something  on  the  outside.  I  want  to  find 
out  about  Booker  Washington's  school  in  Alabama." 
Of  course  the  President  was  glad  and  got  all  the 
needed  information  about  the  Alabama  school. 

On  another  occasion  the  old  man  said:  "I  wake  up 
at  night  and  thank  God  for  putting  the  thought  into 
my  mind."  Then  was  the  time  to  have  the  thing  fixed, 
but  the  good  President  and  his  advisers  thought  it 
need  not  be  rushed.  Alas,  the  news  came  that  the  old 
man  had  suddenly  breathed  his  last!  That  large  es- 
tate of  many  thousands  of  dollars  went  into  the  hands 
of  those  who  didn't  need  it. 

Do  it  now.     Remember  Christ,  your  best  Friend. 

Administer  on  Your  Own  Estate  is  a  Better  Way. 
Dr.  S.  S.  Sherman,  first  President  of  Howard  College, 
was  greatly  loved  by  the  Marion  people.  Before 
the  civil  war  he  moved  to  Chicago  and  became  weal- 
thy. When  Camp  Douglas  was  established  in  Chicago 
and  the  Confederate  prisoners  were  sent  there,  Dr. 


172  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Sherman  was  on  the  lookout  for  the  Alabama  boys,  to 
whom  he  ministered  freely,  thus  endearing  himself 
more  than  ever  to  the  people  of  the  State.  After  I  be- 
came better  acquainted  with  the  Howard,  I  began  to 
hear  from  many  sources  that  the  word  had  reached 
Alabama,  that  a  liberal  legacy  would  be  left  the  college, 

In  the  Sherman  will.  I  met  this  rumor  through  the 
years.  Finally,  when  the  end  came,  the  College  re- 
ceived his  great  Library — very  valuable  of  course,  if 
the  buildings  were  adequate  to  house  it,  but  a  burden 
as  it  was.  If  any  more  was  named  in  the  will,  nobody 
ever  heard  of  it.  Perhaps  that  was  all  he  intended  to 
give,  but  hardly.    Hence  the  heading: 

Administer  on  Your  Own  Estate. 

W.  A.  Alexander,  a  faithful  deacon  of  the  St.  Fran- 
cis Street  church  in  Mobile,  seldom  missed  an  Asso- 
ciation, of  which  he  was  Moderator  towards  the  last 
of  his  life.  In  speeches  and  in  The  Alabama  Baptist, 
the  Secretary  always  spoke  of  remembering  Christ, 
your  best  friend,  in  your  will.  Whether  these  words 
influenced  Brother  Alexander  or  not,  no  one  can  tell; 
but  in  his  will  he  did  remember  Christ,  his  best  friend, 
but  alas — a  contest ! 

Another  brother  had  long  made  it  known  he  was 
going  to  "Remember  Christ,  his  best  friend,"  and  he 
did,  but  alas,  objections  were  raised !  Our  Boards  are 
reluctant  to  go  to  law  about  delicate  matters  like  that 
and  they  suffer  themselves  to  be  defrauded  rather  than 
stir  up  trouble. 

It  is  a  question  whether  or  not  the  Boards  are  right. 
If  one  is  in  his  right  mind,  and  no  undue  influences  are 
used,  ought  not  the  Boards  to  contend  for  their  rights 
under  the  law? 

How  One  Brother  Did  It.  Brother  J.  C.  Bush,  lib- 
eral with  his  gifts  all  his  life,  remembered  Christ  his 
best  friend  in  his  will  at  the  last.  All  the  Boards  and 
Schools  received  liberal  bequests.    The  most  beautiful 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  173 

home  in  Montgomery,  where  I  am  now  writing,  The 
Baptist  Headquarters,  is  the  J.  C.  Bush  Memorial,  to 
stand  through  the  ages. 

CHAPTER  6. 

Address  Delivered  at  Alumni  Banquet  at  Birmingham 
November  3,  1919. 

Howard  College  Fifty  Years  Ago:  In  1923  the  Bap- 
tists of  Alabama  will  be  celebrating  the  100th  anni- 
versary of  their  organization.  They  have  seen  stormy 
weather  in  their  long  history.  The  first  ten  years  the 
storms  came  near  wrecking  everything.  The  year 
1833  was  an  eventful  year.  If  you  meet  a  very  old  ne- 
gro and  ask  him  his  age,  more  than  likely  you  will 
get  this :  "Boss,  I  can't  tell  you  when  I  was  borned, 
but  I  was  here  when  the  stars  fell."  That  was  the 
year  of  the  noted  meteoric  showers.  Among  Baptists, 
it  was  the  year  of  the  great  split  on  the  Mission  ques- 
tion, which  extended  over  the  whole  country.  The 
Anti-Missionaries  had  waged  an  unceasing  war  on  the 
Convention  from  the  day  of  its  birth.  Demons,  from 
the  bottomless  pit,  never  pursued  a  lost  soul  more  re- 
lentlessly. They  had  well-nigh  accomplished  the  job 
of  destruction,  for  in  that  year  only  four  delegates 
found  their  way  across  the  country  to  Grant's  Creek 
church  in  Tuskaloosa  County. 

Their  names  should  be  handed  down  to  the  Baptists 
of  the  future:  McCraw,  Thomas,  Ryan  and  Hosea 
Holcomb.  Hoping  that  others  might  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance the  next  day,  they  did  not  organize.  Praying 
and  planning  that  night,  resulted  in  something  very 
definite. 

The  starting  of  an  Educational  Movement.  They  had 
tried  Evangelism  alone.  They  had  sent  men  out  to 
preach,  some  of  them  proved  to  be  the  rankest  kind 
of    Antis,    who   did    more    harm    than    good.     This 


174  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

proved  to  them  that  ignorance  in  the  ministry  was 

a  great  enemy;  the  remedy  for  their  troubles  was  Ed- 
ucation. 

It     proved     to     be     a     great     Convention,    if    the 

Manual  Labor  School,  projected  then,  did  prove  a  fail- 
ure, three  years  later.  The  word  went  abroad,  that 
a  strong  element  of  the  Baptist  forces  believed  in 
Education,  It  gave  the  Antis  another  chance  to  show 
the  utter  worthlessness  of  their  contention ;  they  were 
opposed  to  everything  progressive.  It  was  a  glad  day 
for  them  and  a  time  of  depression  for  the  Convention 
forces. 

Five  years  later,  1838,  at  the  same  spot,  Grant's 
Creek,  under  the  inspiration  of  a  great  sermon,  preach- 
ed by  a  servant  of  the  King,  they  spoke  out  with  the 
fervor  of  former  days,  on  the  subject  of  Ministerial 
Education.  Aid  to  young  preachers  was  voted  and 
money  raised  for  the  purpose ;  they  took  high  ground 
for  Temperance  and  Bible  Societies,  committed  them- 
selves thoroughly  to  the  Sunday  School  movement,  all 
of  which  the  Antis  bitterly  opposed. 

God  was  leading  his  people  to  throw  defiance  in  the 
face  of  their  enemies.  A  force  of  Giants  had  come  into 
the  Convention  and  there  was  to  be  no  more  mincing 
matters  with  the  opposition.  The  coin  was  on  hand  too, 
to  show  that  they  meant  business — $2,000  in  cash  col- 
lected and  several  thousand  dollars  subscribed  for  Min- 
isterial Education,  showed  that  the  training  of  young 
preachers  was  still  a  cherished  desire.  New  blood  be- 
gan to  tell:  Bestor,  Hartwell,  Manly  and  Travis,  be- 
sides Edward  Baptist,  who  had  stirred  them  with  his 
great  sermon,  were  men  worth  while  and  all  felt  the 
stimulus  of  their  presence.  Thus,  God  has  always  led 
His  people.  He  may  permit  them  to  become  faint- 
hearted and  their  enemies  defiant,  but  the  tide  will 
turn  if  they  are  faithful. 

Young  preachers,  though  they  had  no  Baptist  school 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  175 

to  attend,  were  urged  to  attend  schools  convenient  to 
them  and  provision  was  made  for  the  purchase  of  books 
for  them.  Fortunately,  Dr.  JManly  was  President  of  the 
State  University  and  many  availed  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  to  come  under  the  influence  of  that  great 
man.  In  the  course  of  years,  some  brethren  were  begin- 
ning to  doubt  if  there  was  real  need  for  a  Bapitist  Col- 
lege, since  they  had  the  influence  of  the  President  of 
the  University.  Some  thought  that  there  ought  to 
be  a  halt  in  the  discussion  about  the  boys  school,  lest 
it  might  be  construed  as  opposition  to  the  beloved  Bap- 
tist President  of  the  University. 

While  the  Convention  is  halting  about  the  boys,  I 
will  call  attention  to  another  matter:  It  is  known 
to  some  of  the  brethren,  I  am,  in  spare  moments,  pre- 
paring some  Memories;  those  personal,  for  my  chil- 
dren ;  those  of  a  denominational  character,  for  the 
Convention.  If  I  carry  out  my  purpose,  there  will  be 
a  chapter,  on  Trios  of  institutions  and  men.  One  will 
be.  Siloam  Church,  Judson  Institute  and  Howard  Col- 
lege, this  to  be  follow^ed  by  another :  Gen.  Edwin  D.. 
King,  Mrs.  Julia  Barron  and  Milo  P.  Jewett;  then  S. 
S.  Sherman,  J.  L.  M.  Curry  and  Samuel  Freeman ;  then 
A.  P.  Goodhue,  E.  O.  Thornton  and  David  B.  Goodhue ; 
and  last,  J.  T.  Murfee,  Jessie  B.  Lovelace  and  W.  W. 
Wilkerson. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  a  thickly  wooded,  fertile  sec- 
tion, at  a  cross-roads,  a  shack  of  a  store  near  by.  That, 
would  about  describe  the  place  where  the  fine  old  town 
of  Marion  now  stands.  It  will  be  easy  to  put  on  the 
trimmings,  to  make  it  a  typical  cross-roads,  in  any 
new  country,  with  the  barrels  of  red  liquor,  its  gam- 
bler gang  with  their  horse-racing  and  the  like. 

But,  some  of  the  new-comers  brought  their  religion 
with  them.  A  cross-roads  church  was  soon  establish- 
ed. Perhaps  it  was  not  hard  to  build,  as  labor  and  logs 
were  in  abundance.     Later  a  more  pretentious  edifice 


176  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

was  erected  of  lumber.  It  was  built  in  the  only  style 
of  architecture  known  to  the  carpenters  in  that  day — 
in  the  shape  of  a  barn.  The  church  must  be  named : 
All  readily  agreed  on  the  name  of  a  church  back  in 
the  old  home,  maybe  in  the  Carolinas,  Siloam.  Know- 
ing its  subsequent  history,  we  can  say,  it  was  pro- 
phetic. Think  of  the  thousands  of  poor,  blind  sinners 
whose  spiritual  eyes  were  there  opened !  All  over  the 
South,  yea,  all  over  the  world  and  in  Heaven,  they 
are  blessing  the  name  of  the  Master,  whose  good  Prov- 
idence led  their  feet  to  the  healing  waters  of  Siloam. 
There  were  others,  Presbyterians  and  Methodists,  who 
built  at  the  cross-roads.  They,  first,  conceived  the 
idea  of  establishing  a  girls  school,  in  1836.  The  Bap- 
tists helped  liberally  in  money  and  in  patronage.  Pos- 
sibly, they  didn't  treat  the  Baptists  fairly  in  not  giving 
them  suitable  recognition  in  the  Faculty  and  in  the 
management  of  the  school ;  maybe,  they  didn't  think 
the  Baptists  were  cultured  enough  for  a  job  like  that : 
that  sort  of  an  idea  obtains  yet,  in  some  quarters. 
Whatever  their  thoughts  were,  we  know  now  that  it 
was  of  the  Lord. 

It  must  have  been  predestinated  before  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world,  that  here,  should  become,  for  the 
Baptists  of  Alabama,  a  great  educational  center. 

Far  away  in  Vermont,  a  young  man,  a  Congrega- 
tionalist,  graduated,  entered  the  legal  profession  and 
afterwards,  the  ministry.  His  good  Angel  led  him  to 
what  was  known  then  as,  the  far  west,  Ohio.  There 
he  became  a  Baptist.  Into  his  mind  came  the  thought, 
that  he  and  his  wife  would  journey  South  and  find  a 
suitable  place  to  locate  a  girl's  school.  Tuskaloosa 
seemed  to  be  the  only  place  on  the  map  of  Alabama 
known  as  an  educational  center.  To  this  point  his 
carriage  was  headed. 

At  the  proper  moment,  General  King,  of  Marion, 
gave   orders   to  his   colored  carriage  driver,  to  have 


A   BOOK    OF    MEMORIES.  177 

everything  m  readiness  for  a  trip  to  Tuskaloosa,  where 
the  Trustees  of  the  State  University  were  to  meet. 
General  King  was  a  wealthy  planter ;  he  didn't  have 
much  of  what  was  called  culture,  but  he  knew  what  it 
was  and  appreciated  it.  He  had  served  in  the  Army, 
had  been  to  Europe  and  was  a  man  of  sufficient  in- 
fluence to  commend  him  to  Dr.  Manly  and,  he  became 
a  Trustee  of  the  University.  His  wife  was  a  cultured 
woman. 

At  Tuskaloosa  the  two  heaven- directed  men  met. 
Into  the  new  country,  at  the  cross-roads,  when  there 
was  no  sign  of  a  railroad,  where  there  was  not  known 
such  a  thing  as  a  postage  stamp,  where  it  took 
twenty-five  cents  to  pay  postage  on  a  letter,  this 
strange  servant  of  the  Most  High  came. 

Milo  P.  Jewett  became  President  of  the  new  girl's 
school  at  the  cross-roads.  Mrs.  Julia  Barron  gave  the 
land  on  which  it  was  built  and,  with  the  gift,  went 
her  heart  and  life.  General  King  became  President 
of  the  Board  of  Trustees.  The  naming  came  later, 
doubtless  through  correspondence  of  the  President 
with  the  North,  where  Mrs.  Ann  Hasseltine  Judson 
was  well  known. 

But  my  theme  is  the  Howaurd.  You  will  be,  I  know, 
too  gallant  to  chide  me  for  lingering  so  long  with  the 
old  town  and  the  girls. 

God's  plan  called  for  another  well-trained  mind 
to  help  in  the  great  educational  Campaign  that  was  to 
be  on  in  Alabama.  He  touched  the  button  and  anoth- 
er Vermonter;  S.  S.  Sherman,  struck  the  trail  for  the 
South.  A  little  time  of  initiation  was  needed,  which 
he  got  at  the  University  as  teacher ;  then  he  was  ready 
for  Marion,  where  he  was  offered  the  Presidency  of  a 
"University  for  the  sons  of  the  planters,  as  the  Judson 
was  for  their  daughters."  Sure  enough,  when  the  new 
President  came  he  found  in  the  printing  office,  already 
in  type,  a  flaring  advertisement  of. 


178  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

The  Howard  University.  The  modest  young  Presi- 
dent had  it  changed  to, 

''The  Howard  English  and  Classical  School/' 

Howard  was  born  in  January,  1842,  opening  with 
nine  small  boys  the  first  day. 

Next  Christmas,  (1919),  49  years  ago,  I  returned  to 
Alabama  after  nearly  eight  years  of  wandering — two 
years  in  California,  three  years  in  the  Confederate 
Army,  one  year  on  a  farm  in  Mississippi  and  two  years 
away  at  school  in  Kentucky.  So,  I  missed  by  one  year, 
the  period  of  which  I  was  asked  to  speak ;  all  I  have 
said  thus  far  may  be  taken  as  the  large  portico,  to  the 
small  house  I  will  now  erect.  What  I  have 
said  may  seem  off  the  subject  assigned  to  me,  but  it 
was  essential  to  enlist  the  full  sympathy  of  the  speaker. 
The  town  of  Marion  and  the  old  church,  are  so  inti- 
mately associated  with  the  two  schools,  their  histories 
overlap ;  one  cannot  be  told  without  reference  to  the 
other. 

Of  the  Trio  composed  of  Sherman,  Curry  and  Free- 
man, I  knew  nothing  personally,  except  of  the  last 
named.  Marion  people  and  old  students  of  the  How- 
ard remember  with  tender  affection,  Dr.  Sherman's 
generous  treatment  of  Confederate  prisoners  in  Camp 
Douglas  of  which  I  have  already  spoken. 

J.  L.  M.  Curry,  a  cultured  gentleman,  an  or- 
ator, an  ex-Congressman,  was  chosen  as  the  first 
President  after  the  war,  with  the  expectation  that  he 
would,  by  his  reputation,  rally  the  Baptist  forces  and 
put  the  College  on  its  feet.  For  some  cause,  perhaps 
lack  of  support,  his  career  as  President  was  short. 

After  him,  they  sought  a  man  of  the  people :  Samuel 
Freeman :  With  him  I  became  acquainted  in  1870. 
He  was  not  handsome,  being  disfigured  by  the  loss  of 
an  eye,  but  he  was  a  rugged,  commion  sense,  able 
preacher.  Entering  school  after  he  was  grown  and  mar- 
ried, he  graduated,  and  finally  became  President  of  the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  179 

College — a  worthy  example  to  be  kept  before  every 
poor  boy. 

I  should  have  said  before  mentioning  Freeman :  The 
Trio  composed  of  Goodhue,  Sr.,  Quin  Thornton  and 
young  David  Goodhue,  they  were  the  heroes  that  held 
the  fort  at  a  most  critical  juncture.  When  the  slaves 
were  set  free,  the  South  lost  its  most  valuable  proper- 
ty. The  land  was  left,  but  it  was  worthless.  If  one 
wanted  to  sell,  there  was  no  one  to  buy,  for  there  was 
no  money.  Confederate  money,  by  the  basketful, 
could  be  had,  but  it  was  no  good  now.  Nobody  had 
gold,  for  the  patriotic  Southerner  had  invested  all  in 
Confederate  bonds  and  all  was  lost.  But  the  College 
must  go  on,  and  the  Trio  that  I  mentioned,  braved  the 
task.  Salaries  were  promised,  but  deficits  were  re- 
ported to  the  Convention.  It  is  doubtful  if  the  full  sal- 
aries were  ever  paid  for  years.  The  young  tutor  of 
the  post-bellum  Faculty  is  yet  living  at  Gadsden. 

I  became  acquainted  with  that  prince  of  educators, 
Col.  J.  T.  Murfee,  soon  after  he  came  to  Howard.  His 
coming  was  another  instance  where  God  intervened — 
overruling  the  prejudices  of  men  in  high  places,  for  the 
good  of  His  people.  The  University  authorities,  on 
some  account,  made  it  unpleasant  for  Colonel  Murfee, 
the  long  time  Commandant,  so  he  came  to  Howard. 

The  last  of  my  Trios,  I  came  to  know  well  when  I 
moved  to  Marion  in  1885,  on  becoming  Corresponding 
Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board.  Good  looks  is  not  a 
bad  thing  for  men  to  have  ;  this,  the  three,  of  whom 
I  am  now  speaking,  Murfee,  Lovelace  and  Wilkerson, 
possessed.  IMurfee,  with  his  eagle  eye,  his  iron  grey 
hair  and  military  bearing,  would  attract  attention  any- 
where ;  Jesse  Lovelace,  with  his  clean-shaven,  round 
face  and  laughing  eyes,  made  every  one  he  met  feel 
good,  while  Dr.  Wilkerson  w^ith  his  raven,  velvety 
beard,  his  pearly-white  teeth  and  his  gracious  smile, 
impressed  one  with  his  sincerity  and  honesty.    These 


180  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

were  the  three  great  men  who,  most  of  all,  saved  How- 
ard College  at  a  critical  period.  Murfee,  the  teacher 
and  inspirer,  and  his  cabinet  of  two,  were  wise,  dis- 
creet men.  They  were  compelled  to  be  more  or  Bess 
secret  about  much  that  they  did  and  were  much  criti- 
cised on  that  account.  The  paper  endowment  was  no 
more,  and  outstanding  scholarships,  if  insisted  upon 
for  recognition,  would  ruin  the  College.  (See  Riley's 
History,  390  page).  They  failed  in  an  effort  to  get 
released  from  them.  One  Turner,  sued  the  College ; 
pending  the  lawsuit,  which  continued  for  a  long  time., 
the  College  must  be  kept  going.  If  publicity  were 
given  to  the  legal  matters,  other  claimants  might  bring 
other  suits.  Meantime,  brethren  were  clamoring  for 
an  effort  to  be  undertaken  for  an  endowment ;  but,  if 
money  should  be  raised,  it  was  liable  to  be  gobbled  up 
to  satify  other  claims. 

The  suit  went  against  the  College  and  a  decree  was 
issued  for  its  sale.  Wilkerson  and  Lovelace  bid  it  in, 
not  as  Trustees,  but  as  individuals.  The  College  be- 
came theirs  for  the  time  being.  Only  the  Trustees  and 
a  few  others  knew  it.  So  magnificently  did  they  man- 
age the  finances,  that  when  the  legal  time  ran  out  for 
its  redemption,  they  had  reimbursed  themselves  for 
their  outlay  and  were  ready  to  turn  it  over  to  the  De- 
nomination in  such  a  way  that  no  mortgage  should 
ever  be  put  upon  it.  It  was  dedicated  to  the  Conven- 
tion. Dr.  Geo.  A.  Nunnally,  of  Parker  Memorial  at 
Anniston,  a  busy  pastor,  undertook  the  work  of  en- 
dowment, which  had  been  clamored  for  so  long.  In 
the  little  time  that  he  could  spare  from  his  pastorate, 
he  secured  in  good  subscriptions  a  substantial  sum. 
The  long  night  for  the  College  seemed  about  to  pass. 
All  were  very  happy  over  the  prospects  when  the  Con- 
vention met.  But  their  good  feelings  were  short- 
lived. 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  181 

What  took  place  here  in  Birmingham  in  1886  at  the 
Convention  many  who  are  here  well  know. 

Those  w^ho  knew  Dr.  E.  B.  Teague,  would  never  ac- 
cuse him  of  doing  a  selfish  or  unkind  thing.  He  was  as 
modest  as  a  woman  and  never  had  the  slightest  dispo- 
sition to  thrust  himself  forward.  Yet  he  was  the  man, 
who  with  tremulous  words  moved  that  the  Convention 
consider  the  removal  of  the  College.  Probably  if  he 
had  not  offered  the  resolution,  it  never  would  have 
been  mentioned  and,  by  the  next  Convention  the  work 
of  endowment  would  have  been  so  far  advanced  its 
removal  could  not  have  been  accomplished. 

This  courageous  act,  by  this  modest  man,  nearly 
broke  his  heart  for  he  loved  the  Marion  brethren  and 
knew  how  they  loved  the  College.  It  was  a  heart- 
breaking ordeal  for  the  mover  and  for  the  brethren 
at  Marion,  and  all  South  Alabama  sympathized  with 
them  in  their  bereavement.  But  for  the  magnificent 
spirit  of  some  of  the  noble  souls  at  Marion,  a  breach 
would  have  been  made  in  the  State  Convention  that 
never  would  have  been  healed. 

God  intervened,  and  a  miracle  was  wrought.  Only 
two  years  elapsed  after  the  removal,  when  the  Conven- 
tion met  at  Selma,  the  very  heart  of  the  Black  Belt, 
only  27  miles  from  Marion ;  a  collection  was  taken  for 
Howard  College  of  some  thousands  of  dollars,  to  make 
good  the  failure  of  Birmingham  in  the  erection  of  the 
main  building.  The  election  to  the  Presidency  of  a 
South  Alabama  man,  Dr.  B.  F.  Riley,  had  its  effect  too. 
South  Alabama,  in  money  and  students,  has  shown  its 
loyalty  to  the  school,  its  fathers  had  so  much  to  do 
with  founding.  M.  B.  Wharton,  standing  on  the  spot 
where  the  main  building  now  stands,  is  reported  to 
have  declared  that,  "This  is  the  very  spot,  which  God 
has  predestinated,  before  the  foundation  of  the  world, 
as  the  final  seat  of  Howard  College."  He  expressed 
what  has  come  to  be  the  sentiment  of  the  whole  State. 


182  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

With  a  united  people,  anti-missionism  dead  and  the 
spirit  of  progress  possessing  us,  nothing  can  retard 
the  growth  of  education.  Only  let  us  keep  humble  and 
religious. 

In  speaking  of  the  Howard  and  its  struggles,  one 
man  stands  out  prominently  all  alone,  who  must  be 
mentioned.  I  refer  to  Dr.  J.  S.  Dill.  He  was  a  native 
of  South  Carolina,  who  found  a  devoted  wife  in  the 
cultured  community  at  Carlowville,  where  he  taught 
successfully 

After  the  Civil  War  he  became  a  teacher  of  Greek 
and  Latin  in  Howard  College  at  Marion.  He  suffered 
with  the  Institution  when  deficits  in  salaries  were  the 
common  report  at  the  end  of  every  session. 

When  the  College  was  moved  to  Birmingham  he 
became  President  Pro-Tem  for  a  time  and  managed 
its  affairs  skilfully  at  that  critical  period. 

No  man  stood  higher  in  the  estimation  of  the  breth- 
ren and  the  students. 

As  a  church  member  he  was  loyal  and  a  regular  at- 
tendant in  the  services  as  long  as  his  strength  per- 
mitted. 

His  son,  Dr.  Jack  Dill,  still  survives  him  and  has 
been  for  years  a  popular  pastor  in  several  states. 

One  more  incident  and  I  am  done :  At  a  Conven- 
tion in  Marion,  the  great  Dr.  Winkler,  in  an  eloquent 
address,  said  what  had  been  said  time  and  time  again 
by  others :  "Howard  has  a  secret  which  insures  its 
success  against  all  competition." 

Whatever  secret  he  had  in  mind,  it  ought  not  to  be 
a  secret  that  Howard  is  a  religious  school.  That  is 
used  in  some  quarters  as  an  objection.  I  believe  it 
ought  to  be  more  and  more  kept  before  the  people. 
The  Faculty  should  ever  be  religious,  pre-eminently 
so — of  the  prayer  meeting  and  Sunday  School  variety. 
Parents  there   are,  who   are   looking  for  schools   for 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  183 

their  sons,  where  the  word  of  God,  the  Day  of  God  and 
the  Institution  of  God  are  regarded. 

Opposers  advise  boys  against  the  Howard,  because  of 
the  large  number  of  preachers  who  are  supposed  to  be 
in  attendance.  To  my  mind,  the  presence  of  young 
preachers  is  one  of  the  Howard's  greatest  assets.  Let 
the  number  be  increased  and  let  the  kindly  hand  be 
ever  extended  to  them.  They  will  not  only  be  a  great 
moral  force  in  the  College,  but  they  will  contribute  to 
its  well  being  through  the  years,  as  they  grow  in  power 
and  influence. 

The  Hard  Side.  There  is  a  very  hard  side  to  the  life 
of  a  Secretary  or  a  Missionary.  The  greatest  of  all 
Missionaries  puts  it  this  way :  "In  journeys  often,  in 
perils  of  water,  in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  by  mine 
own  countrymen,  in  perils  by  the  heathen,  in  perils 
in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness,  in  perils  in  the 
sea,  in  perils  among  false  brethren;  in  weariness  and 
painfulness,  in  watching  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst, 
in  fastings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  in  cold  and  na- 
kedness. Besides  these  which  are  without,  that  which 
Cometh  on  me  daily,  the  care  of  all  the  churches.^' 

Many  of  these  troubles  he  endured,  have  been  elimi- 
nated, but  enough  have  been  left  to  make  it  very  try- 
ing for  the  man  who  would  be  a  conscientious  mis- 
sionary. 

All  the  hard  things  left  to  us  of  this  day,  of  the  list 
of  troubles  Paul  mentions  can  be  more  easily  borne, 
than  the  separation  from  one's  home  and  family.  Yet 
that  must  be  done  if  the  Missionary  is  going  to  do  his 
best. 

The  pull  of  the  home  tie  is  strong  with  every  good 
man,  but  it  must  be  severed,  to  measure  up  to  the  task. 
The  auto-mania,  that  possesses  so  many  of  our  preach- 
ers, I  fear,  is  not  being  utilized  to  get  the  man  of  God 
into  more  homes,  but  to  get  himself  more  easily  and 
rapidly  into  his  own  home. 


184  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

In  the  homes  of  the  people  the  missionary  is  Hkely 
to  do  his  best  work,  especially  if  it  is  the  home  of  a 
preacher,  who  is  somewhat  isolated. 

In :  A  Night  in  a  Cabin,"  I  tell  of  a  conversation  ov- 
erheard, when  the  husband  and  wife  were  telling  of 
their  pleasure  in  having  the  visitor  in  their  home,  the 
first  preacher  they  had  ever  entertained ;  I  was  all 
broken  up,  when  the  wife  said :  "Don't  you  know  his 
wife  and  little  children  miss  him  awful?" 

My  first  word  over  a  phone  was  in  Birmingham.  It 
was  Sunday  night.  I  had  preached  at  an  Association 
that  day  and  was  hastening  to  another  meeting  in 
North  Alabama.  Between  trains,  I  ventured  to  use  the 
phone  at  the  depot  to  speak  to  my  boy,  when  the  word 
came  back :  "You  are  wanted  at  home,  your  boy  got  a 
message  and  has  gone  to  Marion — something  serious." 
That  awful  night,  I  can  never  forget.  All  telegraph 
offices  were  closed  and  I  had  to  remain  in  ignorance, 
until  I  reached  home  and  found  a  precious  three-year- 
old,  shrouded  for  the  grave. 

Another  Sunday  in  Anniston,  I  was  summoned  home, 
but  no  message  could  be  gotten  through  after  that. 
No  train  left  until  1  o'clock.  I  tried  to  preach  with  a 
pall  of  darkness  over  me  and  knew  not  until  late  that 
evening,  that  a  dear  girl,  eleven  years  old,  was  dead 
from  an  accident.  My  suffering  was  not  to  be  com- 
pared to  that  of  the  mother,  who  had  to  bear  it  all 
alone.  I  was  under  a  temptation  to  give  up  the  work 
and  go  back  to  the  farm.  His  spirit  intervened  and  I 
was  able  to  say,  "I  will  trust  him  though  He  slay  me." 

One  more  crushing  than  these,  I  speak  of  in  another 
place.  Others  too  that  God  only  knows — perhaps  I 
shouldn't  have  mentioned  these,  but  I  hoped  to  say  a 
word  to  nerve  the  brethren  to  covet  the  hard  tasks. 

If  my  life  were  to  go  over  again,  I  would  not  put  in 
less,  but  more  of  earnest  endeavor,  if  it  called  for 
greater  suffering.    It  was  for  Him  and  my  fellow  man. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  185 

How  a  Missionary  Was  Found. 

A  year  or  two  after  my  entering  upon  the  duties 
of  Corresponding  Secretary,  at  the  Bethel  Associa- 
tion, at  Concord  church,  Miss  Willie  Kelly  said  to  me : 
"Did  you  know,  I  wanted  to  go  to  China?  The  first 
trip  you  made  to  McKinley  after  my  baptism,  you 
gave  out  some  Foreign  Mission  Journals.  There  I 
saw  a  letter  from  Miss  Lottie  Moon  and  was  im- 
pressed to  be  a  Foreign  Missionary,  but  there  was 
no  chance,  for  my  mother  had  just  died  and  left  me 
with  the  care  of  my  brothers  and  sisters.  Now  they 
are  so  situated,  I  can  leave  them  and  the  old  feeling 
has  come  on  me  again.  After  talking  with  her  about 
the  seriousness  of  the  question,  all  of  which  she  seem- 
ed to  have  already  considered,  I  found,  she  was  teach- 
ing a  small  country  school  at  a  salary  of  $25  per 
month. 

Up  to  that  time,  the  Board  had  given  the  Secre- 
tary no  help  in  the  office.  When  he  was  absent,  some- 
times for  weeks,  his  mail  piled  up  on  his  desk,  receiv- 
ing no  attention.  When  I  suggested  to  the  Board  the 
employment  of  Miss  Willie  Kelly,  at  a  salary  of  $25 
per  month,  the  proposition  was  promptly  accepted 
at  both  ends  of  the  line  and  soon  the  young  woman, 
became  the  first  office  help  the  Alabama  State  Mis- 
sion Board  ever  had.  She  became  a  member  of  my 
family,  teaching  my  youngest  children  as  she  could. 
This  position  she  held  for  a  couple  of  years,  mean- 
time studying  mission  literature  and  taking  a  deep  in- 
terest in  missions  among  the  young  people  of  the 
church  and  the  Ann  Haseltine  Society  of  the  Judson. 

At  the  proper  time,  she  made  appHcation  to  the 
Richmond  Board,  was  accepted  and  I  accompanied 
her  to  Louisville,  Ky.,  which  had  been  selected  as  the 
meeting  place  for  the  missionaries  going  abroad.  From 


186  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

that  meeting  she  turned  her  face  to  the  far  East 
where  she  has  faithfully  labored  for  27  years. 

Her  going  away  has  been  a  great  stimulus  to  the 
Baptists  of  Alabama  and  it  came  at  a  time  when  they 
sorely  needed  it. 

The  Secretary  can  say  for  himself,  that  she  has 
been  a  great  inspiration  for  him  too.  He  returned 
from  the  Louisville  meeting,  where  dear  old  Dr. 
Broadus  delivered  the  address,  to  his  task  in  Alabama, 
among  the  sleeping  and,  in  many  cases,  opposing  mis- 
sionary forces,  with  a  link  of  personal  touch  that  in- 
terested and  charmed  them. 

This  in  brief  is  the  beginning  of  the  career  of  this 
marvelously  gifted  missionary  worker.  Alabama's 
honored  daughter  she  is  and  feels  a  daughter  of  mine 
also. 

Some  Things  a  Country  Girl,  Baptized  by  a  Country 
Preacher,  Did  in  China. 

Reference  is  made  in  the  Book  of  Memories  to  Miss 
Willie  Kelly ;  at  my  request  she  furnishes  the  following 
facts : 

*T  went  to  China  in  1894.  In  Shanghai  I  took  up 
work  at  the  old  North  Gate  Church  where  I  spent 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  Century,  in  the  one  Church. 
There  were  only  12  women  members,  only  one  of 
whom  could  read,  with  a  small  day  school  for  boys,  that 
was  all.  The  Church  was  entirely  supported  by  the 
Mission.  There  was  only  one  Missionary  family,  no 
single  missionary  lady.  Marvelous  things  have  hap- 
pened in  these  years  of  blessed  service. 

In  1901  the  Smith  Bible  School  was  built,  by  money 
contributed  by  W.  T.  Smith,  then  living  at  Chapman, 
Ala.  At  that  place,  many  have  been  led  to  know  Je- 
sus as  their  Lord  and  others  have  been  trained  for  His 
service. 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  187 

The  Boy's  School,  "Ming  Jang,"  was  established 
in  1900  and  I  taught  there.  The  Eliza  Yates  school 
for  girls,  was  established  by  Miss  Lottie  Price  who 
went  out  to  China  with  me  and  for  three  years  was 
principal — it  is  now  the  largest  girls  school  Southern 
Baptists  have  in  Central  China,  soon  to  be  made  a  Ju- 
nior. 

The  work  at  Qun-San,  40  miles  from  Shzuighai,  has 
been  exclusively  my  work  and  from  a  remote 
unknown  place  on  the  map  of  China,  it  has  grown  to 
be  a  place  of  note  in  the  mission  of  Central  China. 
At  present  there  is  a  large  boys  school  there  and  a 
larger  girls  school,  which  has  most  excellent  build- 
ings— the  main  one  being  provided  by  the  Smith 
Brothers,  Ed  V.  and  W.  T.  Jr.,  sons  of  W.  T.  Smith, 
with  relatives  of  mine  at  Gastonburg,  Alabama, 
Presbyterian,  the  building  is  named:  "The  Smith- 
Gastonburg  Building," — there,  within  the  last  three 
years,  Mrs.  Seaman,  daughter  of  Dr.  Yates,  our  first 
missionary  to  Shanghai,  has  donated  an  adjoining 
piece  of  land  and  another  building,  all  of  which  is 
used  for  the  girls  school,  presided  over  by  Mrs.  Zee, 
my  beloved  friend  and  co-worker.  She  is  a 
worthy  daughter  of  Zung  Ta  Ta,  who  worked  with 
me  for  25  years. 

In  1918  a  wonderful  gift  from  Mrs.  Seameui,  made 
possible  a  real  home  for  the  single  ladies  at  the  North 
Gate  and,  in  the  same  year,  Mrs.  Seaman  gave  near- 
ly $20,000  towards  the  rebuilding  of  her  father's 
church  and  the  Chinese  gave  nearly  $13,000.  This 
great  building  is  not  to  cost  one  dollar  of  American  mo- 
ney, it  is  to  be  an  Institutional  Church  and  is  to  ac- 
commodate a  large  evening  school  of  upwards  of  400 
young  men.  This  school  was  begun  by  me  two 
years  ago,  when  there  were  only  9  little  boys  the  first 
term.     These   young   men.   are   in   business   near  the 


188  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

North  Gate  and  this  evening  school,  is  the  only  chance 
they  have  to  hear  about  Jesus." 

Let  the  reader  judge,  if  it  was  worth  while  to  bap- 
tize this  girl  and  send  her  far  away  to  China.  She  had 
the  Promise :  "Lo,  I  am  with  you"  and  the  promise  was 
made  good. 

CHAPTER  7. 

The  Story  of  Prohibition. 

The  story  of  Temperance  in  Alabama  goes  far  back 
in  Baptist  history.  In  1826,  the  Bethlehem  Association 
sent  out  a  circular  letter  urging  church  members  not 
to  traffic  in,  or  use  ardent  spirits. 

In  1829,  a  circular  letter  went  out  from  the  Ca- 
haba  Association  which  the  historian  says :  "Was 
greatly  needed,  for  there  were  many  drunkards  in  the 
churches  and  in  the  Associations  generally  throughout 
the  State." 

In  1832,  Fellowship  Church  in  Butler  County,  re- 
ported a  Temperance  Society  numbering  80  or  90. 
Some  members  of  Breastwork  Church  joining,  were 
excluded  from  its  membership. 

In  1838  the  Convention,  in  that  memorable  year, 
when  they  began  to  do  things,  reported  the  cause  of 
Temperance  fast  advancing  and  appointed  delegates 
to  attend  the  Temperance  Convention  to  be  held  in 
Tuskaloosa,  December  10th. 

In  1854  Dr.  I.  T.  Tichenor  wrote  the  report  on  Tem- 
perance. He  speaks  of  a  petition  which  went  up  the 
year  before  from  the  Convention  to  the  Legislature, 
asking  that  elections  might  be  had  by  precincts,  or 
counties,  whether  license  should  be  granted  to  sell  li- 
quor or  not.  These  petitioners  numbered  120,000  of  the 
population  of  the  State.  The  Legislative  Committee 
reported : 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  189 

''It  was  inexpedient  to  legislate  upon  this  subject." 

The  report  tells  of  a  Temperance  Convention  held  in 
Montgomery,  where  it  was  unanimously  resolved  "to 
make  this  an  issue  before  the  people  at  the  next  gen- 
eral election." 

In  1880,  at  the  Greenville  Convention,  when  it  was 
proposed  to  restore  to  the  regular  order  a 

Committee  on  Temperance,  which  seems  to  have 
dropped  out,  the  proposition  met  with  strenuous  op- 
position by  a  leading  minister.  His  contention  was : 
"We  had  as  well  have  committees  on  Card  Playing  and 
Dancing,  etc."  However,  the  Committee  was  appoint- 
ed as  follows :  S.  Henderson,  E.  T.  Winkler,  W.  B. 
Crumpton,  A.  E.  Burns,  and  D.  P.  Bestor. 

The  year  following,  at  Troy,  the  Report  was  sub- 
mitted to  the  Committee  by  Chairman  Henderson;  it 
was  agreed  to,  with  one  dissenting  vote. 

Because  the  Chairman  and  a  member  of  the  com- 
mittee had  locked  horns  the  year  before  and  again 
in  the  Committee  meeting,  I  was  asked  to  read  the 
report.  Dr.  L.  R.  Gwaltney,  President  of  the  Judson, 
made  a  great  speech  in  favor  of  the  report,  and  prob- 
ably it  was  he  who  submitted  an  amendment,  reading: 
"That  the  Convention  is  in  profound  sympathy  with 
all  movements  which  look  to  the  suppression  of  the 
sale  and  drinking  of  intoxicating  liquors." 

From  the  passage  of  that  resolution,  the  issue  be- 
came one  of  the  livest  and  its  final  settlement  is  due  in 
no  small  degree  to  the  firm  attitude  of  the  Baptists, 
over  the  State  discussing  it  before  the  people. 

In  1882  Dr.  Gwaltney  read  a  great  Report  and  prob- 
ably the  longest  ever  submitted.  In  1883  E.  J.  For- 
ester said  in  his  Report:  "What  part  must  we  take 
in  this  struggle?  We  believe  the  Convention  as  a 
body  of  Christian  men,  citizens  of  Alabama,  ought  to 
commit  themselves. 


190  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

To  labor  for  Constitutional  Prohibition  as  a  final  aim 
and  for  anything  now,  which  may  be  best  in  our  re- 
spective sections  which  looks  to  Constitutional  Prohi- 
bition in  the  State  and  Nation."  In  three  years  time, 
the  Convention  had  gone  from  a  discussion  of  the  pro- 
priety of  having  a  committee  on  Temperance,  where 
one  of  the  ablest  speakers  had  opposed,  to  an  open 
declaration  for  the  total  suppression  of  the  traffic 
throughout  the  Nation.  That  was  going  some,  as  the 
boys  would  say. 

In  1884,  W.  B.  Crumpton  submitted  the  Report  which 
was  ordered  printed  in  the  Alabama  Baptist. 

This  history  is  worthy  of  preservation,  for  no  de- 
nomination in  Alabama  did  so  much  as  the  Bapitsts. 
The  Methodists  won  a  close  second.  The  Presbyte- 
rians fell  in  finally.  The  Episcopalians  did  nothing  as 
a  denomination,  though  some  of  their  preachers  and  a 
few  of  their  laymen  helped.  The  Disciples,  though  a 
small  body,  have  been  with  the  movement  from  the 
start.  One  of  their  members,  Robert  Goodall,  to  his 
dying  day,  was  one  of  the  Headquarters  Committee 
of  the  Anti-Saloon  League  and  exceedingly  liberal 
with  his  money. 

In  1919,  when  I  am  writing  this,  most  people  are 
tired  of  the  subject,  but  the  time  will  come  when  the 
history  of  the  movement  must  be  told,  and  another 
generation  will  be  on  hand,  eager  to  know  about  it. 
As  in  almost  everything  I  arA  writing,  the  personal 
element  must  enter  in,  because  I  have  been  so  inti- 
mately associated  with  the  movement  from  its  start 
in  Alabama. 

My  church  members  in  Dallas  County  and  Wilcox, 
made  scuppemong  wine  and  often  handed  it  around 
with  cake  to  the  visitors.     I  accepted  it  always : 

"So  foolish  was  I  and  ignorant ;  I  was  as  a  beast  be- 
fore Thee."  I  soon  found  I  was  getting  in  the  habit  of 
using  it,  and,   inclined   to  defend  it,     B.  F.   Riley,   a 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  191 

young  preacher,  rebuked  me  for  it.  He  never  knew  the 
influence  of  his  words,  but  I  began  to  think,  and  gave 
it  up  entirely. 

I  was  on  my  farm  and  found  liquor  was  the  ruin  of 
negro  labor.  A  Jew  was  selHng  it  in  a  country  store 
within  the  five  mile  limit  of  old  Liberty  Church.  The 
old  church  was  long  since  dead,  but  the  law  was  still 
on  the  Statute  books.  I  took  the  matter  up  before 
the  Grand  Jury,  had  the  Jew  plastered  over  with  in- 
dictments, and  convicted.  Soon  he  burned  down  his 
store  and  moved  away.  I  made  the  Jew  my  enemy, 
but  it  broke  up  the  business.  When  pastor  in  Me- 
ridian, in  1878,  I  fell  on  an  old,  out  of  date,  Magazine, 
giving  the  history  and  workings  of  the  Main  Liquor 
law,  of  which  I  had  only  heard.  It  was  the  first  time 
I  had  ever  read  of  the  effort  at  suppression. 

I  screwed  up  courage  to  preach  a  sermon  on  the  sub- 
ject in  a  growing  little  city,  where  the  Jewish  ele- 
ment was  very  strong;  they  and  the  Catholics  were 
favorable  to  the  traffic,  most  of  the  prominent  corners 
were  occupied  by  saloons,  and  almost  the  whole  coun- 
try filled  with  people  who  drank,  or  excused  drinking 
— none  of  them  believed  in  suppression..  If  anybody  in 
the  audience,  the  day  I  preached,  believed  a  word  I 
said  in  that  sermon,  I  never  heard  of  it — probably  my 
wife  was  an  exception,  though  she  might  have  been 
skeptical. 

That  was  my  first  public  utterance  and  the  first  ser- 
mon ever  heard  by  a  Meridian  audience,  on  the  sub- 
ject. The  old  magazine  did  its  work  for  me.  I  be- 
lieved it,  and  it  burned  itself  into  my  soul.  Years 
after,  as  my  business  called  me  through  Meridian,  and 
I  saw  her  magnificent  growth,  paved  streets  and  great 
buildings  and  knew  that  for  years  she'd  had  prohibi- 
tion, and  that  Jews  and  all  were  great  believers  in  it, 
I  couldn't  keep  from  patting  myself  on  the  shoulder 
and  saying,  "Old  fellow,  you  preached  the  first  ser- 


192  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

mon  on  that  subject  in  this  city."  Probably  the  only 
good  it  did  was  to  put  people  to  talking  and  maybe  a 
few  pious  souls  to  praying,  against  the  saloons. 

While  an  evangelist  in  Alabama  under  appointment 

of  the  State  Mission  Board,  I  found  Prohibition  in  the 
corporate  limits  of  Greensboro,  in  one  mile  of  Hope- 
well church  at  Mt.  Willing  in  Lowndes  County,  one 
mile  of  Sandy  Ridge  in  Montgomery  County,  and  the 
old  five  mile  law  about  old  Liberty  in  Dallas,  of  which 
I  have  spoken.  Those  four  places  were  all  in  Hale, 
Perry,  Dallas,  Lowndes,  Bullock  or  Montgomery,  free 
from  the  legal  sale  of  Hquor. 

Questioning  the  people  about  these  one  mile  laws,  I 
was  confirmed  of  the  feasibility  of  the  suppression  of 
the  Traffic  by  law.  I  wrote  my  Trip  Notes  for  the 
Alabama  Baptist,  and  almost  every  speech  I  made 
and  every  letter  I  wrote  I  had  some  word  on  the  sub- 
ject. Going  for  nearly  a  year  to  the  churches  in  the 
counties  named,  thousands  of  people  heard  for  the 
first  time  prohibition  talked  about.  Every  day  in  the 
week  and  Sunday  too,  I  talked  and  reasoned  and  pray- 
ed. That  was  the  greatest  seed-sowing  year  of  my 
life.  I  induced  hundreds  of  men  to  write  on  the  sub- 
ject. My  Trip  Notes  went  all  over  the  State.  The 
Alabama  Baptist  and  all  its  force  joined  and  the  pro- 
paganda was  thoroughly  started  in  one  year. 
Moving  back  to  Alabama  from  Mississippi, 
I  preached  my  sermon  at  Old  Providence,  my 
home  church.    All  said :  "it  would  be  a  good  thing,  but 

"    The     news     of     that     sermon     reached 

across  the  river  to  Richmond  to  Doctor  Kyser. 
Just  before  the  Legislature  met,  one  night 
I  heard  a  call  at  my  gate,  and  Doctor  Kyser  became 
my  guest  for  the  night.  He  bore  a  strong  petition, 
signed  by  citizens  all  over  the  county,  praying  the 
Legislature  for  a  law  to  prohibit  the  sale,  or  giving 
away,  of  liquor  in  the  county  of  Dallas,  outside  of  Sel- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  193 

ma.  That  town  was  dominated  by  rum,  having  sev- 
eral wholesale  liquor  houses.  The  request  came  that 
I  should  be  the  bearer  of  the  petition  to  Montgomery. 
I  had  never  had  any  experience  with  public  men — had 
never  looked  in  on  a  Legislature  assembled.  Colonel 
Sam  Will  John  was  in  the  House  from  Dallas  and  at 
once  came  to  my  assistance.  From  that  time  he  be- 
came the  leader  of  the  Prohibition  forces  in  the  Leg- 
islature. Through  all  the  years,  I  have  known  him, 
he  has  never  flinched  once  on  this  subject.  Only  once 
have  we  ever  differed,  and  that  in  the  good  year  1919, 
when  he  did  not  favor  the  National  Amendment  to  the 
Constitution. 

Thus  I  became  a  Lobbyist,  and  became  a  frequenter 
of  Montgomery  every  session  of  the  Legislature.  No- 
body proposed  to  pay  my  expenses.  I  would  stay 
as  long  as  my  money  and  business  would  allow,  then 
pull  out.  I  found  at  the  start,  the  liquor  forces  had  a 
man  always  on  the  job — Jake  Weise,  from  Mobile. 
He  was  a  sharp,  good-natured  Jew.  Whenever  I  came 
I'd  hunt  for  Jake,  to  know  about  the  Temperance  Com- 
mitteee,  who  they  were,  what  they  had  done  and  where 
they  were  to  meet.  I  was  not  the  only  lobbyist.  I  met 
men  from  different  parts  of  the  State  with  petitions, 
for  zones  around  school  houses,  or  churches,  seldom 
one  asked  for  more  than  a  mile.  I  found  numbers  of 
preachers,  members  of  the  Legislature.  Generally 
they  rang  true  to  the  cause — one  notable  exception, 
Hardshell  members,  preachers  or  laymen,  were  gen- 
erally on  the  side  of  liquor.  A  notable  exception  was 
a  brother  from  Randolph  County  and  one  or  two  more. 

Conditions  in  the  Capitol  were  horrible.  The  cloak 
rooms  and  some  of  the  offices  of  the  State  House, 
were  liberally  supplied  wnth  liquor.  The  glasses,  lem- 
ons and  everything  good  mixing  needed,  were  there. 
Besides  this.  Dexter  Avenue,  near  to  the  entrance  of 
th   Capitol   grounds,   furnished   a   favorite   resort   for 


194  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

those  who  wanted  to  stroll  away  and  take  a  little  out- 
ing in  the  fresh  air.  I  happened  to  be  in  the  gallery 
one  day  when  an  "Omnibus  liquor  bill"  was  up.  This 
was  for  all  the  odds  and  ends,  not  included  in  special 
bills.  Amendments  were  being  offered  rapidly,  — "or 
this" — "or  that"  etc.  Finally  one  fellow  dropped  a 
bomb  into  the  camp  :  "or  in  the  State  of  Alabama!"  My, 
what  a  scurrying  out  and  in !  Some  running  to  keep 
their  vote  from  being  recorded,  some  to  rally  the 
liquor  men  from  the  cloak  rooms  and  the  lobby. 

I  saw  two  Baptist  members,  shooting  for  the  door. 
They  did  not  return  until  after  the  vote  was  taken, 
which  killed  the  amendment.  They  were  both  addict- 
ed to  drink.  They  didn't  know  of  my  presence  in  the 
gallery.  The  next  day,  I  saw  them  returning  from  the 
doggery  near  the  Capitol.  One  of  them,  with  his  hand 
over  his  mouth,  to  dam  up  his  liquor  breath,  said, 
"Well  sir,  you  would  have  enjoyed  a  sight,  if  you 
had  been  here  yesterday !  We  came  mighty  nigh  mak- 
ing Alabama  dry."  Then  he  related  the  incident  of 
the  amendment,  to  which  I  was  all  attention,  of  course. 

Once  when  things  were  getting  desperate,  and  it 
looked  as  if  prohibition  would  win,  the  liquor  forces 
did  their  worst.  They  elected  a  Legislature — at  least 
the  House  was  that  way.  They  elected  a  Black  Belt 
man  Speaker  of  the  House.  He  was  a  drinking  man, 
a  bold,  daring  defender  of  drink. 

It  had  always  been  the  custom  to  make  up  the  Tem- 
perance Committees  of  men  who  favored, Temperance. 
Very  often  a  preacher  was  made  chairman.  But  the 
Speaker  threw  away  all  precedents  and  made  a  drink- 
ing man  of  Montgomery  chairman  and  gave  him  a 
majority  of  liquor  men,  among  them  a  Brewer  from 
Mobile. 

After  a  few  days,  I  made  my  appearance,  found  out 
from  Jake  the  composition  of  the  Committee.  The 
place  of  meeting,  he  announced  was,  "The  room  of 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  195 

the  Brewer  in Hotel."     I  met  with  them. 

Every  courtesy  was  extended  me.  The  Chairman  in  a 
little  while  asked  me  very  politely,  if  I  had  anything 
to  put  before  them.  I  excused  myself,  saying,  "All  I 
have  to  say  will  keep  for  two  years,  when  I  think  my 
message  will  fare  better."  The  word  went  out  to  every 
corner  of  the  State  and  the  next  Legislature  was  of  a 
different  type. 

Fourteen  years  ago,  I  first  heard  of  the  Anti-Saloon 
League  of  America.  I  got  in  touch  with  it  at  once. 
Arrangements  were  made  to  organize  in  Alabama  in 
the  fall.  The  time  appointed  so  conflicted  with  my 
Baptist  engagements,  as  Secretary  of  the  Mission 
Board,  I  could  not  meet  with  them.  It  was  a  small 
gathering  in  Birmingham.  To  my  great  surprise,  I 
was  made  President,  which  position  I  have  held  ever 
since. 

A  Big  Daily  Paper,  an  enemy  of  everything  like  re- 
form, made  this  comment,  after  announcing  the  organ- 
ization of  the  League  in  Birmingham. 

"This  means  trouble  in  Alabama."  That  prophecy 
began  to  come  true  at  once.  Every  day  and  hour,  it 
has  caused  the  liquor  forces  trouble.  Especially  has 
that  paper  groaned  with  pain  and  anguish  of  soul. 
God  can  save  the  greatest  sinner  than  ever  lived,  but 
it  is  impossible  for  him  to  save  an  unrepentant  sinner. 
There's  no  sign  of  repentance  in  the  columns  of  that 
paper  to  this  day.  Everything  favoring  the  liquor 
cause,  or  disparaging  the  prohibition  cause,  is  seized 
and,  in  the  most  exultant  manner,  sent  forth  to  its 
readers.  Another  big  Daily  in  Birmingham,  was  quite 
as  bad. 

Casting  about  for  a  man  to  lead  us,  I  asked  one  who 
knew,  about  Brooks  Lawrence  of  Ohio.  The  answer 
came,  "Brooks  is  the  very  man  for  you.  He  is  a  Pres- 
byterian Preacher,  a  Democrat  and  has  had  experi- 
ence in  the  work.     You'll  find  him  a  bit  fractious  oc- 


196  A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

casionally,  but  he  is  reasonable.  Dr.  Young,  the  first 
"foreigner"  to  come  to  our  help  was  the  speaker.  So 
the  place  was  offered  Brooks,  he  came  and  what  he  did 
for  the  liquor  forces  was  a  plenty. 

It  was  an  audacious  move.  With  almost  no  organi- 
zation— about  a  half  dozen  men,  some  of  them  preach- 
ers and  some  very  busy  business  men,  constituting  a 
Headquarters  Committee,  with  no  money  to  start 
with.  They  were  to  go  out  and  face  a  daring,  devil- 
ish foe ;  with  plenty  of  money  to  buy  newspapers,  buy 
votes,  buy  judges,  and  solicitors,  if  need  be ;  yes,  and 
Legislatures  and  politicians  too. 

The  churches,  without  regard  to  creed,  were  appeal- 
ed to  and  their  doors  were  thrown  open  to  the  Super- 
intendent and  his  representatives,  so  the  needed  money 
was  raised.  Often,  at  our  yearly  meetings,  a  balance 
of  only  fifteen  or  twenty  dollars  was  shown.  Business 
men  endorsed  our  paper  at  the  banks  and  all  bills 
were  promptly  paid.  I  said  all  the  churches  opened 
their  doors — probably  I  should  qualify  without  speci- 
fying. Some  did  not.  Some  preachers  held  us  up;  but 
it  is  in  the  past  now.  We  won  in  spite  of  opposition 
of  the  enemy  and  the  indifference  of  many  who  should 
have  been  our  friends.  Some  judges  and  solicitors  and 
editors  deserve  special  mention,  but  after  all,  they  did 
only  their  duty  and,  if  consulted,  would  make  that  re- 
ply with  a  request  not  to  name  them. 

The  first  meeting  before  the  House  Committee,  the 
new  Superintendent  and  the  President  found  some  of 
the  shrewdest  lawyers  in  the  State — attorneys,  em- 
ployed to  oppose  us.  The  President,  recited  in  brief 
his  efforts,  how  he  was,  in  the  past,  often  forced  away 
at  critical  periods  for  the  want  of  money,  or  time, 
and  said :  "But  now%  we  are  organized :  We  are  camp- 
ing on  the  trail  of  the  liquor  traffic  and  our  camp  fires 
will  never  go  out."  That  slogan  has  gone  down  the 
years  and  will  live  forever.    With  that  speech,  I  prac- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  197 

tically  ended  my  career  as  a  lobbyist  and  introduced 
Brooks  Lawrence,  who  is  now  and  has  been,  the  most 
hated  man  in  Alabama  by  the  friends  of  the  expiring 
traffic.    He  is  the  hero,  that  deserves  the  crown.     He 

is  hated  only  for  what  he  has  done  and  he  did  exactly 
what  he  was  brought  to  the  State  to  do.  "God  moves 
in  a  mysterious  way,  his  wonders  to  perform."  He  did 
this  through  men  he  prepared,  beginning  with  some 
when  they  were  scraps  of  children. 

Now,  Alabama  is  swept  clean,  the  Nation  is  legally 
dry,  and  the  forces  go  out  to  tackle  the  monster  evil 
in  other  countries,  I  feel  like  Old  Simeon :  "Now  Lord, 
lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  thy  salvation."  Imagine  the  millions  who 
will  be  saved  through  prohibition,  millions  of  souls, 
millions  of  groans,  millions  of  money,  millions  of 
homes. 

CHAPTER  8. 

Perhaps  the  story  needs  a  little  dip  into  politics.  Well, 
it  is  a  slimy  stream.  It  is  hard  for  a  man  to  go  into  it 
without  being  befouled  with  its  filth.  But  good  men 
dare  not  turn  it  over  to  bad  men;  the  cause  of  govern- 
ment is  too  sacred  for  that.  Because  good  men  have 
taken  hold,  conditions  are  far  better  than  they  used 
to  be. 

B.  B.  Comer  was  the  first  pronounced  Prohibition- 
ist elected  Governor  in  Alabama.  Some  Governors 
before  him,  were  true  to  the  cause  of  Temperance,  but 
the  Prohibition  forces  had  not  assumed  shape  until 
his  time.  He  was  first,  a  Local  Optionist,  as  all  of  us 
were,  in  the  beginning.  We  fought  it  out  with  the 
liquor  forces  when  we  made  the  Beat  the  unit.  When 
we  moved  up  to  the  county,  they  contended  for  the 
Beat.  It  was  a  great  victory  to  make  the  county  the 
unit.     But  that  would  not  do.     This  county,  with  its 


198  A   BOOK   OF   AIEMORIES. 

liquor,  regarded  not  the  option  of  the  next  county, 
that  had  voted  dry.  So  the  fight  had  to  be  made  for 
the  State  as  the  unit.  When  that  was  won,  the  next 
step  became  necessary;  to  make  the  Nation  the  unit. 
On  that  we  have  won ;  but  the  Hquor  barons  have  not 
spent  all  their  ill-gotten  gains  yet  and  the  battle  goes 
merrily  on. 

We  have  had  set-backs  in  Alabama,  as  when  a  wet 
Governor  was  elected  with  a  Legislature  to  his  liking 
— he  and  his'n  were  soaking  wets.  The  attempt  to 
undo  all  that  had  been  done,  cost  some  of  us  much 
concern  and  some  worry,  but  we  trusted  in  the  right- 
eousness of  our  cause :  "We  made  our  prayer  to  our 
God  and  set  a  watch  against  our  enemy  day  and  night." 
Preachers  were  dubbed,  by  the  enemy :  "Political  Par- 
sons," but  that  didn't  disconcert  them.  Praying,  work- 
ing, writing,  preaching  and  giving  money,  the  work 
received  the  favor  of  heaven  and  the  support  of  sen- 
sible men  in  big  business.  The  politicians  learned  some 
lessons  which  are  very  hard  to  stay  learned.  Booze 
was  a  powerful  aid  in  the  olden  time  to  the  office- 
seekers.  The  old  line  politicians  call  to  mind  the  good 
old  days,  but  they  are  about  dead  and  a  new  set  are 
rising  up  wdio  know  the  people  will  not  stand  for  any 
foolishness.  We  still  have  the  liquor  crowd,  with  their 
liquor  methods,  but  the  handwriting  is  on  the  Avail 
and  they  can  all  read.  The  newspapers — a  few  of  them, 
long  for  the  flesh  pots  of  Egypt;  but  they  are  coming 
right. 

What  Set  Me  Afire;  Pretty  soon  after  becoming  Sec- 
retary of  the  Mission  Board  and  moving  to  Marion. 
I  inaugurated  a  campaign  which  would  carry  me  even- 
tually all  over  Alabama.  Three  days  meeting  would  be 
held  with  dinner  on  the  ground.  The  meetings  were 
called  ''Baptist  Rallies."  The  program  covered  relig- 
ious questions  such  as  Missions,  Christian  Education, 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  199 

Religious  Literature,  Religion  in  the  Home,  Christian 
Citizenship  and  Temperance. 

At  every  place  in  a  two  weeks  trip  something  that 
liquor  had  done  in  the  community  was  on  the  tongue 
of  everybody.  When  I  returned  to  Marion  I 
went  over  it  all  with  my  wife.  I  said:  "Think 
now  what  we  have  done ;  we  have  moved  from 
the  plantation  to  this  place,  supposed  to  be 
one  of  the  best  places  in  the  State  to  raise  chil- 
dren, the  seat  of  a  Presbyterian  and  two  Baptist 
Colleges.  Here  we  find  three  bar  rooms  running  at  full 
blast  until  far  in  every  night.  When  I  spoke  to  some 
one  about  it,  they  told  me  nothing  could  be  done.  Two 
prominent  members  of  churches  own  the  bank  and 
because  of  the  large  deposits  the  bank  gets  from  the 
bars  and  the  revenue  they  pay  into  the  City  Treasury, 
the  sentiment  of  the  best  people  is  to  let  them  alone." 
I  resolved  then  in  the  presence  of  God  and  the  mother 
of  my  children,  to  make  this  Vow  of  Consecreation : 

^By  the  help  of  God,  if  it  takes  my  life,  liquor  in 
Alabama  shall  go.  I  am  better  situated  than  any  man 
in  the  State  to  do  the  job.  I  am  traveling  all  over  the 
State,  speaking  often  every  day  to  churches  or  Asso- 
ciations and  I  am  writing  for  the  Alabama  Baptist  and 
it  goes  all  over  the  State.  If  nobody  does  anything, 
how  do  I  know  but  that  my  boys,  brought  up  in  this 
community  may  become  victims  of  drink?  If  nothing 
is  done,  how  do  I  know  but  that  these  girls  of  mine, 
will  some  day  marry  like  the  poor  girl  whose  scream 
I  heard,  when  her  drunken  husband  fell  out  of  his  chair, 
dead." 

Oh,  it  was  awful!  Good  friends  turned  against  me. 
All  regarded  me  as  a  crank  and  a  fanatic.  But  we 
won,  God  be  praised  for  it ! 

No,  I  was  not  the  only  one,  I  only  happened  to  be 
in  a  place  to  do  more  and  write  and  speak  more.  The 
Baptist  ministry,  in  the  main  were  aroused.    The  Lord 


200  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

pity  the  few  who  didn't  go  in  and  the  very  few  who 
were  on  the  other  side.  The  Methodists,  thank  God, 
almost  to  a  man,  their  preachers  became  my  fellow 
workers. 

Now,  I  am  pleading  not  for  any  more  laws,  we  have 
enough  of  them.  I  am  pleading  with  Christians  not  to 
abuse  the  law-breakers,  but  to  go  after  them  as  fel- 
low-men— yes,  as  brothers  and  seek  to  persuade  them. 
The  merchants  and  bankers  would  tell  the  fellows  from 
the  country,  about  a  remedy  for  boll  weevil,  or  of  any 
thing  that  would  help  them  along.  Why  not  talk  to 
them  about  the  thing  that  is  more  ruinous  than  the 
boll  weevil? 

Why  can't  our  good  women  organize  to  reach  their 
sisters  in  the  districts  of  the  wild-cat  stills.  Another 
important  matter,  see  to  it  that  the  public  school  teach- 
er, does  his  or  her  duty  as  the  law  requires ;  teach  the 
children  the  ruinous  effects  of  alcohol  on  the  human 
system.  If  that  is  done,  a  new  generation  will  soon 
be  reared,  who  will  know  things,  that  will  forever  cut 
drink  out  of  their  programme  for  life.  Above  all,  let 
the  preachers  be  astir  with  the  Gospel. 

"Why  the  Preachers  Rage  Against  Drink!"  This  is  a 
quotation  from  Kipling,  the  great  English  poet.  Hear 
him ;  while  he  tells  why  he  became  a  Prohibitionist : 

"The  sight  of  the  evening  was  a  horror.  The  little 
tragedy  played  itself  out  at  a  neighboring  table,  where 
two  young  women  were  sitting  with  young  male  com- 
panions. It  did  not  strike  me,  until  far  into  the  even- 
ing, that  the  pimply  young  reprobates,  were  making 
the  girls  drunk.  They  gave  them  red  wine,  then 
white  and  the  voices  rose  slightly  with  the  maiden's 
cheeks  flushes.  I  watched  and  the  youths  drank  until 
the  speech  thickened  and  their  eye  balls  grew  watery. 
It  was  sickening  to  see,  because  I  knew  what  was  go- 
ing to  happen.  The  four  were  children  of  sixteen  or 
seventeen. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  201 

"THERE,  RECANTING  PREVIOUS  OPINIONS,  I 
BECAME  A  PROHIBITIONIST.  I  UNDERSTOOD 
NOW  WHY  THE  PREACHERS  RAGED  AGAINST 
DRINK.  I  HAVE  SAID  IN  THE  PAST:  THERE  IS 
NO  HARM  IN  IT  IF  TAKEN  IN  MODERATION; 
YET  MY  OWN  DEMAND  FOR  BEER  HELPED  DI- 
RECTLY TO  SEND  THOSE  TWO  GIRLS,  REEL- 
ING DOWN  THE  DARK  STREET  TO— GOD  ONLY 
KNOWS  WHAT  END." 

Unconsciously,  Kipling  got  on  the  ground  of  the 
Apostle  Paul,  nineteen  hundred  years  ago,  when  speak- 
ing of  meat  offered  to  idols  and  the  temptations  to 
persons  of  weak  consciences  when  he  said:  *Tf  my 
eating  meat  causes  my  brother  to  offend  I'll  eat  no 
more  meat  while  the  world  stands." 

Let  the  story  close  with  this:  The  Women's  Chris- 
tian Tempersmce  Union,  organized  in  1874,  formulated 
plans  to  get  before  every  Legislature  in  the  Union  a 
bill  that  required  teachers  to  teach  the  children,  the 
injurious  effects  of  alcohol  on  the  human  system. 
When  these  children  became  of  voting  age,  it  was 
easy  to  get  them  to  read  temperance  literature  and  to 
vote  against  the  evil.  Many  thousands  of  men  voted 
their  convictions,  brought  from  the  school  room,  and 
many  thousands  of  young  women  let  their  influence 
go  to  strengthening  the  wills  of  the  young  men  in  the 
same  direction.    All  honor  to  the  W.  C.  T.  U. : 

Big  Business  is  much  praised  for  their  help,  but  it 
was  not  because  of  their  hatred  of  liquor,  or  their  love 
for  their  laborers,  or  their  country,  but  because  of 
their  selfish  selves.  They  saw  the  difference  between 
a  drunken,  or  even  a  drinking,  laborer,  and  a  sober 
one.  Some  of  them  have  been  mean  enough  to  want 
to  claim  all  the  praise  and  rule  the  preachers  and  the 
women  out.  Anybody  knows,  they  did  all  the  pioneer 
work  which  made  present  conditions  possible. 


HISTORICAL 

Part  Seven 

THE  BAPTISTS  OF  THE  TENNES- 
SEE VALLEY  AND  MOUNTAINS 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  Tennessee  River  Valley,  I  saw  first  during  the 
Civil  War,  while  marching  from  Decatur  to  Tuscum- 
bia.  Many  times  since,  I  have  traversed  it  from 
Bridgeport  to  Cherokee. 

It  contains  some  of  the  loveliest  country  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  and,  in  the  coves,  as  rich  soil  as  can 
be  found.  It  was  all  fertile  once,  but  the  all  cotton 
farming  and  the  thriftless  tenants,  have  worn  it  out,  as 
nearly  as  such  land  can  be  worn  out.  It  will  be  as  the 
garden  of  the  Lord,  when  intelHgent  people  get  hold 
of  it.  That  will  come  when  the  absentee-landlord  is 
no  more. 

This  section  is  the  oldest  settled  part  of  the  State. 
The  first  railroad  ran  from  Tuscumbia  to  Decatur,  its 
construction  beginning  in  1832.  The  territorial  cap- 
itol  was  at  Huntsville.  The  first  Baptist  church  in  Ala- 
bama, the  Flint  River,  (1808)  was  near  Huntsville,  and 
Enon,  now  the  First  Church,  Huntsville,  was  the  sec- 
ond in  the  State.  The  people  are  so  near  Tennessee 
that  they  are  Tennesseeans  in  their  reading  and  think- 
ing. Newspapers  from  Memphis  and  Chattanooga  are 
far  more  widely  read  than  are  the  Alabama  papers. 

The  Baptists  of  the  Valley  will  be  hard  to  separate 
from  those  of  the  mountains — for  instance,  the  Ten- 
nessee River  Association,  with  twenty-nine  churches, 
has  more  churches  in  the  mountains  than  in  the  Val- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  203 

ley.  The  Baptists  are  strong  in  the  mountains,  in  the 
Valley  they  are  not  numerous.  Conditions,  Baptisti- 
cally  were  distressing,  when  I  first  visited  the  Valley 
about  1900. 

This  might  have  occurred  in  this  section:  Asking  a 
preacher  why  the  Baptists  had  yielded  the  towns  to 
the  other  denominations,  one  reply  was:  "Baptists 
have  always  loved  the  country  since  John  the  Baptist 
came  preaching  in  the  wilderness."  Another  is  re- 
ported to  have  said,  "There  were  no  good  swinging 
limbs  in  the  towns  where  the  countryman  could  hitch 
his  horse  easily."  The  following  reply  is  no  hearsay: 
"Brother,  we  are  living  in  the  Laodicean  age."  Being 
asked  what  sort  of  an  age  was  that,  he  replied :  "An 
age  when  urror  will  prevail  and  you  can't  do  nothin* 
agin  it."  A  view  which  seems  to  hold  among  some  who 
are  not  ignorant.  This  old  brother,  piously  remarked, 
after  getting  off  the  slander  on  Laodicea :  "The  truth 
is  mighty  and  will  prevail."  If  the  friends  of  truth 
are  silly,  uninformed,  and  cowardly,  the  truth  w^ill  be 
trampled  down.  It  is  only  a  question  of  faithfulness 
to  the  truth. 

Practically,  the  Baptists  in  these  parts  were  sound 
asleep.  Where  they  had  energy  to  do  something,  the 
most  of  them  were  opposed  to  anything  like  progress. 
However,  they  received  the  Secretary  cordially,  fed  him 
and  housed  him  well.  He  knew  the  Baptist  doctrines 
pretty  well  and  he  preached  them  with  all  his  mi^ht, 
winding  up  every  sermon  with  an  appeal  for  church 
activity  and  the  giving  of  money. 

The  response  to  appeals  for  money  were  not  large. 
Returning  from  one  of  these  trips,  a  hotel  man  asked 
me  how  was  everything  where  I  had  been,  I  said:  "The 
country  is  holding  its  own.  I  tried  them  on  collections 
and  got  but  little."  Whereupon  he  fixed  up  a  yarn 
which  he  told  with  a  straight  face :  that  I  couldn't  get 
a  soul  to  pass  the  hat  for  a  collection,  so  I  took  it  my- 


204  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

self,  saying  when  I  returned  to  the  pulpit:  "Well, 
brethren,  I  see  the  country  is  holding  its  own — I  am  so 
much  obliged  that  you  let  me  have  my  hat  back." 

The  Baptists  I  found  in  the  Tennessee  Valley,  were 
not  unlike  others.  A  few  in  every  church  are  leaders, 
if  they  are  led  into  the  light,  the  matter  is  settled. 
This  can  be  done  easily  in  the  homes  of  a  few  famihes. 
If  these  cannot  be  seen  in  their  homes,  the  next  best 
place  is  the  church,  the  leaders  are  most  likely  to  be 
there.  The  Association  is  a  good  place  to  meet  them 
too.  I  put  the  Association  last,  because  it  is  the  least 
effective.  The  Secretary  must  go  or  send  some  one 
into  the  homes  and  churches.  If  he  depends  only  on 
Associational  visitors,  the  process  is  very  slow  and 
very  doubtful.  All  these  means  were  tried  out  in  the 
Tennessee  Valley. 

We  purchased  school  property  at  Scottsboro,  the 
county  seat  of  "high  Jackson."  For  three  years,  though 
we  were  in  trouble  all  the  time  for  the  want  of  means, 
we  made  a  good  name  among  the  mountain  boys  and 
girls,  their  Pa's  and  Ma's,  and  we  gained  a  far  better 
standing  with  other  denominations,  who  had  been  re- 
garding Baptists  as  opposed  to  education. 

When  the  movement  began  for  the  State  to  have 
High  Schools  in  every  county,  we  found  that  our  prop- 
erty was  desired  as  it  was  at  the  county  seat.  Gov- 
ernor Comer  refused  to  consider  the  petition  of  the 
citizens,  unless  the  Baptists  would  voluntarily  offer 
to  sell.  This  we  did,  getting  back  the  purchase  money 
and  more. 

Bridgeport,  where  we  had  no  church  and  only  a  few 
members,  miffed  because  their  splendid  offer  had  been 
rejected  by  the  State,  increased  their  offer  to  the  State 
and  offered  it  to  the  Baptists.  Of  course  we  accepted 
it. 

Probably  it  was  the  best  trade  Baptists  were  ever 
known  to  make.    So  that  in  the  windup,  Jackson  Coun- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  205 

ty  had  two  splendid  High  Schools  where  they  had  only 
one  before — indeed,  it  has  three,  for  Pisgah,  a  school 
established  by  that  one-armed  soldier-preacher,  J.  J. 
Beason,  became  the  property  of  the  denomination 
through  the  Home  Mission  Board  at  Atlanta.  Now 
three  schools  are  operated,  two  by  the  Atlanta  Board, 
and  all  are  in  a  flourishing  condition. 

At  Bridgeport,  a  church  was  organized  and  wor- 
shiped in  the  chapel  of  the  school  building,  but  now 
they  have  a  good  church  building,  a  good  Sunday 
School  and  church,  worshiping  every  Sunday  with  pas- 
tor living  with  them. 

Lest  some  one,  reading  this  in  after  years  should 
cite  this  as  an  instance  where  the  Baptists  accepted 
aid  from  a  municipality,  I  want  to  say :  Not  a  cent 
was  received  except  from  individuals  and  corporations 
interested  in  the  well-being  of  their  town.  Not  a  cent 
from  the  city  treasury. 

I  must  mention  a  remarkable  conversion  which  had 
much  to  do  with  the  success  of  the  church.  A  fine, 
cultivated  young  woman,  a  recognized  leader  of  so- 
ciety, whose  mother  was  a  Baptist,  played  the  organ 
at  the  services.  A  protracted  meeting  w^as  appointed 
by  the  church  and  the  young  folks  of  the  town  ar- 
ranged for  a  series  of  entertainments,  to  offset  the 
church  services.  Both  were  well  advertised  and  op- 
ened on  time.  The  organist  would  play  at  night  and 
join  her  young  friends,  waiting  at  the  door  and  go  on 
to  the  dance.  Every  pious  soul  was  much  exercised 
and  joined  heartily  with  the  mother  in  earnest  prayer 
for  her  daughter.  One  night,  just  as  they  were 
through  with  the  last  of  the  opening  hymns,  she  broke 
down  and  asked  the  preacher  to  pray  for  her.  She 
was  gloriously  converted.  Consternation  struck  the 
crowd  of  frolickers  and  they  quit.  From  that  moment, 
without  the  deviation  of  a  hairs-breadth,  that  young 
woman  consecrated  her  life  to  the  service  of  God  and 


206  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

her  church.  She  has  been  the  inspiration  through 
all  the  years.  Our  school  and  the  church,  are  sending 
out  influences  which  blesses  people  in  the  three  States 
that  touch  at  the  town — Alabama,  Georgia  and  Ten- 
nessee. 

The  first  lot  offered  the  Baptists  at  Decatur,  now 
Albany,  was  under  the  hill  back  of  the  Tavern.  Busy 
Baptist  men,  had  accepted  it  and  had  a  load  of  lumber 
there  when  I  reached  the  place.  The  President  of  the 
Land  Company,  a  Baptist  preacher,  had  promised  me 
he  would  see  to  it  that  we  had  a  nice  lot  and  I  was 
trusting  him  and  the  brethren.  When  I  saw  it  and 
had  a  talk  with  the  brethren,  it  was  rejected.  How 
Baptists  have  often  been  imposed  upon,  and  it  is  large- 
ly their  own  fault. 

The  Secretary  got  W.  Y.  Quisenberry,  pastor  at 
New  Decatur,  to  visit  Athens  and  arrange  a  meeting. 

That  meeting  put  Athens  on  the  Baptist  map  as 
will  be  seen  in  the  "Concrete  Case"  referred  to  else- 
where. A  great  lesson  we  learned  was  that :  "Little 
can  be  done  pulling  on  a  cold  collar."  A  wise,  tact- 
ful man  on  the  ground,  planning  and  working  for  a 
meeting,  is  on  the  sure  road  to  success.  Through  the 
influence  of  Athens'  church.  Limestone  County,  at  this 
time,  is  dotted  all  over  with  Baptist  churches. 

Tuscumbia,  the  county  seat  of  Colbert  County,  had 
been  "pastored"  by  the  best  preachers  in  the  land, 
sometimes  a  farmer,  then  an  editor,  or  a  teacher — 
Jackson  Gunn  was  one  of  them,  Josephus  Shackelford 
another.  The  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  the  church 
was  in  bad  plight.  John  McCollum,  who  afterwards 
was  a  missionary  in  Japan,  served  them  through  one 
vacation.  J.  M.  Thomas  was  the  Board's  appointee  for 
awhile.  What  a  time  we  did  have  for  a  long  time ! 
The  old  brick  building,  tied  together  with  iron  rods, 
strangers  were  afraid  to  enter.  The  Secretary  made 
the  membership   fighting  mad  by  wishing  a  cyclone 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  207 

might  come  some  night,  when  nobody  was  there  and 
blow  the  old  structure  down.  It  did  them  good  and  a 
neat  building  was  erected. 

CHAPTER  2. 

The  Story  of  Florence,  is  a  long  one  and  maybe,  I 
should  not  attempt  to  tell  it  all,  but  it  is  Baptist  His- 
tory and  nobody  else  knows  it.  In  the  Chapter  of 
the  Period  of  the  Civil  War,  I  told  about  my  first  sight 
of  Florence,  when  I  went  through  the  town  in  1864 
double-quicking  in  my  No.  10  Yankee  shoes,  yelling  as 
the  girls  waved  their  handkerchiefs. 

Very  different  was  my  next  visit ;  it  was  in  the 
Nineties.  I  met  with  Dr.  Lawton  of  Atlanta,  a  mem- 
ber of  Hawthorn's  church.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
Land  Company  that  was  to  pull  off  a  great  real  es- 
tate sale  at  Florence.  I  didn't  know  a  soul  in  the 
town,  but  I  determined  to  spend  the  day  there.  The 
town  is  beautiful  for  situation,  on  a  high  ridge,  over- 
looking the  Tennessee  River.  Before  the  boom,  I 
judge  it  was  about  like  the  ordinary  county  seat,  but 
a  great  stir  was  there  now. 

I  was  curious  to  see  a  boom,  and  I  was  now  to  have 
my  curiosity  satisfied.  I  have  described  it  about  thus : 
A  large  covered,  spring  wagon,  pulled  by  two  fine 
horses.  In  the  wagon  were  table  and  clerks  with  all 
the  paraphernalia  needful  for  such  occasions.  In  front 
of  the  w^agon,  a  carriage  with  the  auctioneer  and  some 
of  the  land  company,  in  front  of  all  a  brass  band,  a  cou- 
ple of  boys  with  red  flags  to  stand  at  each  end  of  the 
lot  were  conspicuous,  and  behind  all,  were  about  five 
hundred  of  what  shall  I  call  them?  I  have  heard  some 
of  them  call  themselves  "fools."  That  is  a  boom,  as  I 
saw  it. 

After  witnessing  the  sale  of  one  lot,  I  went  in  quest 
of  Baptists.     I  found  two — one,  a  woman,  who  shut 


208  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

the  door  in  my  face,  the  other,  a  shoe-maker,  who  de- 
clared he  knew  he  was  the  only  missionary  Baptist 
in  the  place,  and  he  thought  there  were  very  few  in 
the  State.  He  was  much  astonished  when  I  informed 
him  there  were  one  hundred  thousand  in  the  State. 

Somehow  it  had  gotten  out  that  I  was  there  to  see 
about  the  possibility  of  establishing  a  Baptist  church. 

The  Presbyterian  pastor  looked  me  up  and  said: 
"This  is  a  Methodist  town,  the  Presbyterians  come 
next,  but  there  are  no  Baptists.  Probably  among  the 
new-comers  there  will  be  some  of  your  people.  I  am 
friendly  to  the  idea  of  having  your  people  established 
here.  If  the  town  booms  like  they  say  it  will,  a  Bap- 
tist church  would  be  worth  more  than  an  Iron  fur- 
nace, or  other  plants  they  are  talking  about.  You 
are  welcome  to  use  my  church  any  hour  of  the  week 
except  on  Sunday  at  eleven  o'clock.  I  said  there 
were  no  Baptists — I  have  some  in  my  church,  I  urged 
them  to  come  in  with  us  until  their  people  came,  then 
they  could  pull  out.  I  can't  tell  them  to  go,  or  even 
suggest  it  to  them,  but  I  will  not  object;  the  fact  is, 
I  would  be  glad,  for  they  make  the  poorest  of  Presby- 
terians." Alas,  they  never  came.  I  suspect  they  were 
a  bit  ashamed  of  having  pulled  down  their  flag  and 
surrendered. 

On  a  second  visit  I  called  on  Judge  Wood,  a  digni- 
fied old  Southern  gentleman  and  a  Methodist  Stew- 
ard, also  President  of  the  Land  Company.  On  the 
map,  he  pointed  out  the  lot  they  had  set  apart  for  the 
Baptists.  When  I  found  it  in  the  old  town,  on  Cedar 
street,  not  a  desirable  place,  I  protested.  I  picked  out 
two  lots,  rather  on  the  border  of  the  new  and  the  old 
towns.  I  insisted  we  would  not  be  satisfied  with  one 
less  prominent.  Since  it  was  the  habit  of  Land  Com- 
panies to  give  lots  to  the  churches,  we  would  be  glad 
to  have  these  as  a  gift,  but  we  would  buy  them  if  the 
company  would  not  pres-r^nt  them  to  us.     I   assured 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  209 

him  the  Baptists  were  100,000  strong  in  Alabama  and 
would  pay  their  way,  rather  than  take  unsuitable  prop- 
erty as  a  gift.  I  forget  the  figures  the  Company  had 
set  upon  the  two  lots — maybe  $2,000.  I  left  him  after 
saying:  "When  you  see  your  Company  next  week  in 
Nashville,  please  see  what  is  the  least  they  can  take 
for  these  lots.  We  are  going  to  have  a  large  church 
here  some  day."  I  was  much  amused  to  watch  his 
face  as  I  proceeded  with  my  speech.  He  was  espec- 
ially struck  with  my  statement  as  to  the  number  of 
Baptists  and  our  willingness  to  purchase  the  lots  we 
wanted.  I  wouldn't  say  how  much  bluff  there  was  in 
all  this,  but  I  did  not  tell  an  untruth,  for  we  were 
plenty  able  to  buy.  My  scheme  worked,  for  the  Judge 
said  he  would  do  what  he  could  for  us.  One  of  those 
lots  is  where  the  beautiful  structure,  known  as  the 
Baptist  church,  now  stands. 

There  are  other  Chapters  in  this  story.  Field,  the 
promoter  of  the  Florence  Land  Company,  chanced  to 
go  with  Dr.  Lawton  for  a  week-end  visit  to  Atlanta. 
He  may  not  have  been  a  church  member,  but  he  ac- 
companied Dr.  Lawton  to  the  First  Baptist  church  to 
hear  J.  B.  Hawthorne.  The  church  had  voted  the 
pastor  a  year  off  and  he  was  soon  to  go  abroad.  The 
pastor  made  grateful  mention  of  it  that  day.  On  in- 
quiry, Field  found  that  the  preacher  had  been  pastor 
m  Frankfort  and  Louisville,  Ky.,  Richmond,  Va.,  and 
New  York.  Shrewd  business  man  that  he  was,  he 
thought  he  saw  a  vision.  Why  couldn't  this  great 
preacher,  in  search  of  rest,  spend  his  year  in  the  fine 
climate  of  Florence  and  utilize  his  wide  acquaintance 
with  people  of  wealth  and  influence  in  the  interest  of 
the  boomers  of  Florence?  Dr.  Lawton  fell  in  with  the 
idea,  the  preacher  considered  it  favorably  and  soon 
became  a  citizen  of  his  native  State,  far  to  the  north  of 
his  native  county,  Wilcox. 


210  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Soon  after  my  second  visit  to  Florence,  a  church 
was  organized  and  began  to  worship  in  the  Court 
House.  When  Hawthorne  came,  he  preached  occas- 
ionally and,  of  course,  had  an  overflowing  congrega- 
tion every  time.  His  name  and  fame  sent  Baptist 
stock  skyward.  Quite  a  number  of  very  fine  people 
were  gathered  in  and  when  an  effort  was  made  with 
a  subscription  for  a  church  building,  there  was  little 
trouble  to  get  a  goodly  sum  subscribed.  I  urged  its 
collection,  but  the  too  sanguine  pastor  and  people  in- 
sisted that  it  was  all  sure  of  collection  when  it  was 
needed. 

When  the  great  enterprises  were  set  going,  Field 
called  the  leaders  together  and  said  to  them  some- 
thing like  this :  '*Dr.  Hawthorne's  name  has  been 
worth  much  to  all  of  our  enterprises.  Now  let  us 
complete  our  scheme,  by  building  here  a  great  College 
and  let  him  be  at  the  head  of  it.  No  place  in  our  coun- 
try is  equal  to  this  for  such  an  institution.  Missis- 
sippi is  only  a  few  miles  away,  likewise  Georgia ;  we 
are  almost  in  Tennessee  and  we  are  in  the  very  best 
part  of  Alabama — four  great  States  to  draw  from. 
With  all  these  advantages,  with  a  fine  climate,  equal 
to  the  best  in  the  world,  we  have  a  great  opportunity, 
we  ought  not  to  allow  to  slip  away  from  us."  The 
suggestion  was  readily  accepted  and  the  means  were 
quickly  provided  for  the  educational  scheme. 

Judge  Porter  King,  the  President  of  the  Judson 
Trustees  at  Marion,  was  a  Vice-President  of  the  Land 
Company  at  Florence.  Howard  College  had  just  been 
moved  to  Birmingham  from  Marion  and  the  Judge 
was  sore  over  it.  With  many  others  he  believed  Bir- 
mingham was  not  going  to  come  up  with  her  great 
promises  and  the  College  would  either  be  moved  back 
to  Marion,  or  located  somewhere  else.  He  advised 
the  Florantines  to  erect  a  building,  duplicating  the 
new  Judson  and  was  ambitious  to  see  it  the  final  home 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  211 

of  the  Howard.  His  wish  as  to  the  style  of  the  build- 
ing was  carried  out.  A  mile  and  a  half  from  the  city, 
on  a  commanding  eminence,  the  building  was  erected. 

Alas,  for  all  the  best  laid  plans  of  men!  The  boom 
began  to  subside — one  great  industry  after  another 
went  to  pieces.  After  a  year  Dr.  Hawthorn  went 
back  to  Atlanta  and  to  his  old  church,  none  the  worse 
in  anywise. 

I  must  finish  the  story  of  the  building.  I  do  not 
know  into  whose  hands  it  fell,  probably  the  Land 
Company  had  to  keep  it.  In  a  year  or  two  inquiry 
was  made  for  a  booster  to  take  charge  of  and  run  a 
school.  The  man  was  found  and  put  on  the  job.  Such 
a  Catalogue  as  was  gotten  out  was  never  seen  before 
or  since.  The  Alabama  Senators  and  Congressmen 
and  distinguished  men  from  everywhere  were  among 
the  Trustees,  whether  by  their  consent  or  not,  I  do  not 
know.  The  Catalogue  alone  won  its  way  and  near 
three  hundred  girls  were  enrolled  from  many  of  the 
Southern  States.  The  second  year  maybe,  opened  as 
auspiciously  as  the  first.  The  President  reminded  the 
Land  Company  of  the  unfulfilled  promise  to  extend  the 
street  car  line  out  to  the  College.  When  they  talked 
indifferently  about  it,  he  made  a  trip  to  Birmingham, 
saw  Dr.  Caldwell  of  the  Elyton  Land  Company,  of- 
fered to  bring  his  College  to  Birmingham,  if  suitable 
inducement  could  be  offered.  The  Company  had  built 
a  hotel  on  the  car  line  at  Lakeview  and  it  had  be- 
come a  sort  of  white  elephant  on  their  hands.  It  was 
offered,  furniture  and  all.  The  Company  agreed  to 
move  the  whole  school,  without  a  cent  of  expense,  to 
give  them  ever  so  many  privileges  on  the  street  cars 
— such  an  offer  was  never  heard  of  before.  The 
President  of  the  College  wrote  the  parents  asking  their 
consent  and  it  was  given,  almost  without  a  dissenting 
voice. 


212  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

It  was  said  that  no  sight  like  it  was  ever  witnessed 
in  Birmingham  when  10,000  people  met  the  train 
bringing  in  the  school.  The  President  was  acclaimed 
the  hero,  in  a  most  spectacular  performance.  Pretty- 
soon  after  the  second  term  in  the  new  quarters,  the 
building  burned  and  one  of  the  girls  lost  her  life  in  the 
flames.  The  President  faded  from  view  and  other 
parties  tried  for  two  years  to  perpetuate  the  College 
over  at  Anniston,  but  the  ''Hawthorn  College"  as  some 
called  it  to  the  end,  was  no  more. 

Returning  to  Florence:  The  Baptists  have  a  beau- 
tiful church  and  pastor's  home,  and  across  the  ravine, 
a  second  church.  Both  of  these  are  the  fruit  of  the 
Mission  Board's  efforts. 

All  the  great  things  Field,  the  promoter  said  about 
Florence  as  a  suitable  place  for  a  great  College  were 
true  and  some  day,  maybe,  on  the  spot  where  the  so- 
called  "Hawthorn  College"  was  burned,  a  College  of 
far-reaching  influence  may  stand.  Florence  is  prob- 
ably ten  times  larger  than  in  the  days  of  which  I  write 
and  the  future  has  greater  things  in  store  for  her 
than  was  ever  dreamed  of  by  the  boomers  of  whom  I 
have  written.  The  government  has  spent  millions 
there  on  the  water  power  and  will  spend  millions  more. 
A  great  city  must  be  the  outcome,  it  seems  to  me. 

The  History  I  have  narrated,  all  the  circumstances 
dove-tailing  so  beautifully  into  one  another,  furnishes 
an  opportunity  for  a  skilful  writer  to  weave  an  in- 
teresting story  from  real  life.  This  ends  the  story  of 
Florence ;  I  hope  the  reader  will  feel  as  I  do,  it  was 
worth  while  to  write  it  up. 

Sheffield,  like  all  new  towns,  had  its  ebbs  and  flows. 
The  State  Board  through  its  Secretary  was  quick  on 
the  ground,  after  it  started  up.  I  have  told  what 
we  have  there  now.  The  Muscle  Shoals  development, 
beginning  with  the  European  war,  is  going  to  make 
great  cities  all  around  that  region. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  213 

Guntersville,  far  back  up  the  river  on  the  south  side, 
the  County  Seat  of  Marshall,  one  of  the  most  populous 
counties  in  the  State,  teeming  with  Baptists,  without 
a  Baptist  church !  It  was  a  reproach  to  the  denomina- 
tion. The  old  town,  hid  away  in  the  mountains,  low 
down  on  the  river,  had  every  appearance  of  being  a 
dead  town.  When  we  launched  the  church  building 
enterprise,  it  was  a  great  disappointment  when  the 
Baptists  of  the  county  failed  to  respond  with  their 
sympathy  and  help.  But,  when  Mack  Kilcrease,  a 
young  man,  Mayor  of  the  town,  and  F.  M.  Barnes,  an- 
other young  man,  the  preacher,  joined  hands,  the  men 
and  the  occasion  met.  Other  men  and  women,  not  a 
few,  there  were,  but  these  are  the  ones  standing  out 
prominently  in  my  mind. 

CHAPTER  3. 

For  Inter  and  Federated  Church  People  to  Ponder.  A 
Concrete  Case. 

From  the  Alabama  Baptist : 

Brother  Crumpton,  the  long  time  Corresponding 
Secretary  of  the  State  Mission  Board  of  Alabama,  be- 
ing asked  for  a  concrete  argument  to  meet  Federated 
and  Inter-church  Union  ideas,  said:  "I  will 
take  the  Tennessee  Valley  in  Alabama.  This  is  the 
prettiest  country  in  the  world.  When  the  Board  en- 
tered it  in  the  Nineties  it  could  not  be  called  Baptist 
territory;  we  had  a  weak  church  at  Cherokee  with 
monthly  preaching  by  a  non-resident  pastor.  Tuscum- 
bia  had  seen  better  days,  but  was  now  weak  in  numbers 
and  finances.  Its  old  brick  building  was  tied  together 
with  iron  rods.  Strangers  who  were  coming  into  the 
territory  at  the  beginning  of  the  boom,  were  afraid  to 
enter  it.  Sheffield  had  no  Baptist  church,  nor  had 
Florence,  though  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  cultured 


214  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

county  seats  in  the  State.  Athens,  another  county 
seat,  had  only  five  members,  without  a  pastor,  an  old 
brick  building,  its  walls  tied  together  with  iron  rods. 

Decatur  had  a  small  membership,  worshiping  in  a 
small  frame  building — the  brick  structure  had  been 
torn  down  and  the  brick  used  to  make  chimneys  for 
the  Federal  Army,  which  wintered  there.  There  was 
no  church  in  New  Decatur,  now  Albany — ^probably  a 
small  organization  at  East  Decatur.  At  Huntsville 
we  had  a  good  church,  with  brick  building.  Gunters- 
ville,  a  very  old  town  and  a  county  seat,  had  no  Bap- 
tist church.  Scottsboro,  a  county  seat,  had  a  very 
good  church  for  that  day,  with  services  twice  a  month 
by  a  non-resident  preacher.  Bridgeport  had  no  church 
of  our  faith.  There  was  not  a  strong  Baptist  church 
in  all  the  territory  named. 

What  Have  the  Baptists  Now? 

Cherokee  has  a  pastor  on  the  ground,  preaching  half 
time. 

Tuscumbia  has  an  elegant  church  building,  a  beauti- 
ful pastor's  home  with  a  membership  of  300,  gave  last 
year  for  benevolence  $414. 

Sheffield  has  a  durable  church  building,  on  a  promi- 
nent corner,  a  pastor  on  the  ground  for  every  Sunday 
service,  a  membership  of  188,  contributed  for  benevo- 
lences last  year  $581,  and  pledged  to  the  75  Million 
Campaign  $12,500. 

Florence,  on  a  centrally  located  lot,  has  a  brick  build- 
ing, a  pastor  for  all  time,  living  in  a  beautiful  par- 
sonage, a  membership  of  248,  gave  last  year  for  benev- 
olences $996,  and  pledged  to  the  75  Million  Compaign 
$23,019. 

Central  Church  Florence  has  preaching  every  Sun- 
day, their  pastor  living  with  them,  gave  last  year  to 
benevolences  $555  and  pledged  to  the  75  Million  Cam- 
paign $15,582.     They  have  a  membership  of  227. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  215 

Athens  has  a  pastor  for  full  time,  living  in  a  beau- 
tiful home  hard  by  an  elegant  brick  church  building,  a 
membership  of  269,  gave  last  year  to  benevolences  $613 
and  pledged  to  the  75  Million  Campaign  $15,220. 

Decatur  1st  Church  worships  in  a  well  appointed 
brick  structure,  a  pastor  for  full  time,  in  a  home  be- 
longing to  the  church,  a  membership  of  186,  gave  last 
year  for  benevolences  $919,  and  pledged  to  the  75  Mil- 
lion Campaign  $26,000. 

Albany  has  a  beautiful  church,  a  membership  of  489, 
contributed  to  benevolences  last  year  $2,006,  and 
pledged  to  the  75  Million  Campaign  $45,640. 

East  Town  has  a  pastor  for  all  time,  living  in  a  home 
by  the  church,  with  a  membership  of  229,  gave  last 
year  for  benevolences  $365. 

South  Decatur  has  a  membership  of  279,  and  only 
a  little  way  out  is  Austinville  with  a  membership  of 
205. 

Huntsville  First  Church  has  a  pastor  for  all  time, 
living  in  a  home  provided  by  the  church,  membership 
of  267,  gave  last  year  for  benevolences  $1,677  and 
pledged  to  the  75  Million  Campaign,  $22,499. 

Merrimac,  West  End  and  Fifth  Avenue  churches  are 
all  growing  and  prosperous  with  a  membership  of  452, 
contributing  to  church  benevolences  last  year  $514  and 
pledging  to  the  75  Million  Campaign  $5,480. 

Guntersville  has  a  church  in  an  up-to-date  building, 
pastor  full  time,  with  a  membership  of  245.  They  gave 
last  year  for  benevolences  $176  and  pledged  to  the  75 
Million  Campaign  $7,000. 

Scottsboro  has  a  pastor  for  full  time  in  a  church 
home,  with  a  membership  of  131,  gave  last  year  for 
benevolences  $533  and  pledged  to  the  Campaign  $9,368. 

Bridgeport  has  a  church  sufficiently  strong  to  sup- 
port a  pastor  for  all  time,  with  a  membership  of  177, 
gave  last  year  for  benevolences  $527  and  pledged  to 
75  Million  Campaign  $5,870. 


216  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

If  the  idea  of  the  Federated  and  Interchurch  Church 
Union  had  obtained  in  the  Nineties,  possibly  the  Bap- 
tists might  have  had  one  church  at  Huntsville.  At 
best  they  could  have  had  only  three  in  the  towns  I  have 
named.  I  make  no  mention  of  Town  Creek,  Hillsboro, 
Madison,  Paint  Rock,  Fackler  and  some  others,  where 
the  Board  helped  but  little,  if  any. 

It  is  very  generous  of  our  Interchurch  brethren 
to  show  us  how  the  work  could  have  been  done  better; 
but  we  are  fairly  well  satisfied  with  the  showing  we 
have  made.  They  make  a  great  point  on  showing  us 
how  to  save  money.  We  have  been  preaching  the  Gos- 
pel of  giving  money  and  judiciously  spending  it.  Peo- 
ple generally  have  no  need  of  lessons  from  us  to  save 
money,  they  will  take  care  of  that. 

The  great  task  is  to  get  them  to  give  themselves  and 
their  money.  This  they  are  slowly  learning  to  do  in 
the  Tennessee  Valley  and  the  Master  has  been  honor- 
ed and  no  other  denomination  hurt. 

Since  the  above  was  written,  the  movement  which 
promised  so  much  has  gone  to  pieces  and  is  bankrupt, 
as  the  extract  below  from  a  Northern  Baptist  paper 
which  favored  the  movement,  shows : 

"The  Interchurch  Movement  is  still  struggling  with 
its  vast  indebtedness.  It  is  a  precious  good  thing  that 
the  Baptists  withdrew  from  the  Movement  at  the  Buf- 
falo meeting,  for  otherwise  the  Movement  would 
probably  have  continued  and  piled  up  more  millions 
of  indebtedness.  Financially  this  was  the  most  irre- 
sponsible religious  movement  that  the  world  has  ever 
known. — Watchman  Examiner. 

This  ends  my  story  of  the  Baptists  of  the  Tennessee 
Valley.  It  is  a  great  joy  to  me  to  review  the  work  and 
think  of  what  was  accomplished.  Some  sweet  day  we 
will  know  a  thousand  things  accomplished,  which  we 
never  dreamed  of. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  217 

It  will  not  take  long  to  travel  from  the  Valley  and 
mingle  with  the  Mountain  Baptists.  These  are  in 
North  Alabama,  extending  down  to  Birmingham.  It 
is  said,  a  politician  passing  through  the  mountains  of 
North  Georgia  asked  the  mountain  man  who  was  driv- 
ing: "What  is  the  geological  formation  of  this  coun- 
try?" He  got  for  his  answer:  "Mostly  Baptists."  I 
am  quite  sure  that  it  is  a  fact,  most  of  the  mountain 
people  of  Alabama,  are  Baptists. 

Going  to  one  of  their  Associations:  I  encountered 
a  brother  who  a  dozen  years  before,  had  visited  them 
in  the  interest  of  the  Home  Mission  Board.  He  pre- 
dicted that  all  sorts  of  insults  awaited  me.  He  said:  "I 
visited  them  once  in  the  interest  of  the  Mission  Board. 
I  made  the  best  speech  I  could.  When  I  finished,  an 
old  brother  spoke :  'The  brother's  speech  reminds  me 
of  a  rich  man  who  owned  a  lot  of  niggers.  He  had  a 
barrel  of  tar  in  the  corner  of  the  yard  and  tuck  a  no- 
tion he'd  move  the  tar  into  another  barrel  in  another 
corner.  He  fell  on  this  plan :  He  strung  out  his  nig- 
gers, every  fellow  with  a  gourd,  from  one  barrel  to 
'tother.  The  plan  was  for  the  one  next  to  the  barrel 
to  dip  his  grourd  in  the  barrel,  then  to  pour  it  in  the 
next  fellow's  gourd.  Finally  all  the  tar  was  out  of 
one  barrel,  but  not  a  drap  was  in  the  new  barrel — the 
tar  had  all  stuck  to  the  gourds.'  When  he  finished 
he  sat  down  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  on  his  face 
and  the  whole  house  was  in  a  giggle."  "How  did  you 
answer  him?"  I  asked.  He  replied:  "I  didn't  say  a 
word.  I  got  my  hat  and  saddlebags  and  left.  It  was 
an  open  insult."  My  reply  was :  "I  should  like  for 
some  fellow  to  try  that  on  me."  The  result  of  my  visit 
was  most  encouraging.  They  kept  me  talking  most 
every  minute  of  the  two  days  I  was  there,  gave  me 
the  best  collection  ever  taken  and,  for  years,  sent  me 
their  collections  every  time  the  Association  met. 


218  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Only  one  time  was  I  ever  mistreated  at  an  Associa- 
tion. Some  fellows  of,  the  so-called  Gospel  Mission 
type,  had  drawn  off  a  few  churches  into  an  Associa- 
tion of  their  own.  They  had  captured  a  small  Second 
Church  in  a  considerable  town  and  the  Association 
was  to  meet  there.  I  dropped  in,  was  allowed  to 
speak  and  sat  me  down  on  the  front  seat  to  be  quizzed. 
They  did  it  in  a  masterful  fashion.  One  of  their  bold- 
est, stood  before  me,  with  his  long  index  finger  shak- 
ing in  my  face,  saying  over  and  over  again :  "You'll 
never  get  a  cent  from  this  Association."  From  the 
time  I  got  into  the  house  until  I  left,  I  felt  I  was  in  an 
ice  box.  If  there  was  sympathy  in  any  heart,  it  did 
not  show  itself  on  a  single  face.  That  was  the  most 
complete  water  haul  that  I  ever  met.  I  made  a 
prediction  for  them,  that  this  opposition  would  soon 
die,  and  it  came  true  in  a  few  years.  The  Association 
is  about  broken  up,  the  preachers  were,  for  the  most 
part,  ignored  by  the  churches  and  the  man  with  the 
long  index  finger,  asked  for  and  received  an  appoint- 
ment under  the  Board. 

Anti-Missionism  is  not  confined  to  the  mountains. 
We  have  it  everywhere.  Sometimes  in  the  large  cities, 
among  the  most  intelligent  and  well  to  do.  It  comes 
from  covetousness  and  ignorance.  Many  a  man,  is 
intelligent  about  worldly  matters  and  as  ignorant  as  a 
heathen  about  Missions.  Some  men  have  it  drilled  in- 
to them  that  the  leaders  in  the  missionary  enterprise 
are  not  honest  men  and  are  doing  what  they  do  for 
personal  gain.  One  who  is  a  close-fisted  trader,  is  apt 
to  suspect  every  man  who  is  in  a  position  of  leader- 
ship, especially  where  he  handles  money. 

One  of  the  sledge-hammers  I  have  used  on  all  such, 
is  to  tell  of  this  occurrence.  It  was  my  habit  to  spend 
a  half  hour,  sometimes  more,  at  a  depot,  waiting  for 
trains.  I  lost  no  time,  for  I  had  books  to  read,  or 
notes  to  write  for  the  paper,  besides  there  was  satis- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  219 

faction  in  knowing  I  was  where  I  belonged — that  stea- 
died my  nerves. 

At  a  railroad  station,  above  Birmingham,  a  Jew,  who 
was  the  agent,  sauntered  out  and  sought  a  conversa- 
tion. He  said  inquiringly:  "You're  traveling;  vat  is 
your  peesness?"  I  replied:  "I'm  a  drummer."  "Vat 
is  your  line?"  he  persisted.  "The  Gospel,"  said  I. 
"And  vat  is  tat?"  he  asked  again.  "Religion,"  I  said. 
"Oh,"  said  he,  "Tus  you  do  it  tat  vay?"  It  was  in 
the  boom  days,  so  I  went  into  give  him  a  pretty  clear 
idea.  I  told  him  I  went  to  the  churches,  got  the  money 
to  enable  me  to  go  to  new  towns,  collect  up  the  Bap- 
tists, organize  them  into  churches,  help  them  to  build, 
then  urge  them  to  help  me  do  the  same  for  other  towns, 
etc.  He  listened  intently,  and  then,  his  ivory 
teeth  lighted  up  his  big  face,  while  he  remarked:  "Vel, 
you's  got  de  best  blace,  you  gits  de  money."  Stand- 
ing before  an  Association,  where  the  most  of  them  are 
anti-missionaries,  they  will  be  tickled  nearly  to  death 
over  the  saying  of  the  Jew.  When  they  have  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  it,  the  Secretary  raises  the  question : 
"What  made  that  Jew  think  of  that?  Would  you 
have  thought  of  it?  Only  one  answer  can  be  given  to 
that  question ;  He  was  a  thief.  He  thought :  "If  I 
had  your  chance  I'd  feather  my  nest  good."  Now  you 
write  it  down  and  don't  forget  it.  When  you  hear  a 
man  say  that  Secretaries  and  Board  men  who  are 
handling  the  people's  money  are  making  way  with  it, 
he  publishes  himself  a  thief  at  heart.  You'd  better 
not  have  any  business  relations  with  him."  It  was 
amusing  after  the  Secretary  had  delivered  himself  in 
that  way,  to  look  into  the  faces  of  those  who  most 
keenly  enjoyed  and  laughed  the  loudest  and  longest, 
over  the  Jew's  reply. 

They  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  get  mad. 
They  couldn't  get  mad,  so  they  allowed  a  pale,  sickly 
smile  to  steal  over  their  faces. 


220  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

CHAPTER  4. 

At  one  of  these  Associations  I  had  with  me  Chas.  W. 
Hare,  partner  of  Jim  Pope,  in  the  conduct  of  the  Ala- 
bama Baptist.  Under  their  splendid  management  this 
paper  was  at  its  best,  Charlie  doing  the  canvassing. 
The  Association,  of  which  I  now  speak,  had  made  their 
boast,  they  had  left  the  membership  of  a  large  Asso- 
ciation *'to  get  rid  of  the  black  coated  fellows,"  as 
they  called  all  the  progressives,  or  their  agents.  They 
were  surprised  when  we  found  them.  They 
had  standing  committees  on  Sunday  Schools  and  Tem- 
perance, though  there  were  wild  cat  stills  in  sight  of 
every  church  and  there  wasn't  a  live  Sunday  School 
in  their  bounds. 

They  received  the  visiting  brothers,  after  a  fashion, 
but  were  a  long  way  from  being  hilarious.  After 
Charlie  had  spoken  on  the  paper,  and  both  of  us  had 
spoken  on  Sunday  Schools  and  Temperance,  I  asked 
if  they  would  not  appoint  a  Committee  on  Missions. 
Since  they  claimed  to  be  Missionary  Baptists  and  I,  a 
Missionary  Secretary,  had  visited  them  for  the  first 
time,  I  hoped  to  be  of  some  benefit  to  them  while  I 
was  there.  Of  course  I  spoke  about  their  beautiful 
mountains,  the  lovely,  well-tilled  farms  I  had  seen 
and  the  bright  prospects  ahead  of  them.  I  wasn't  en- 
couraged by  kindling  enthusiasm,  which  I  hoped  to  see 
on  their  faces.  After  rather  an  embarrassing  wait,  a 
motion  was  made  that  the  Committee  on  Missions  be 
appointed ;  after  another  wait,  the  motion  was  sec- 
onded, one  or  two  voted  for  it,  none  opposed  it,  so  the 
Committee  was  appointed. 

The  next  morning  a  brother  said  to  me:  "I  weoit  to 
tell  you  something.  These  mountains  are  full  of  stills. 
The  distillers  are  on  the  lookout  for  every  stranger  that 
comes  to  the  mountain.  You  came  in  a  buggy  with  a 
man  they  knew,  or  you  would  have  been  stopped  miles 


A   BOOK  OF   MEMORIES.  221 

from  here,  to  know  your  business.  Four-fifths  of  the 
great  crowd,  that  will  be  here  tomorrow,  will  be  in 
sympathy  with  the  stills.  You  have  talked  pretty  bold 
against  liquor,  I  don't  think  they'll  bother  you,  but 
there  has  been  lots  of  talk.  That  mission  report  is 
going  to  be  knocked  out  by  limiting  speeches  to  five 
minutes." 

Sure  enough  when  it  was  read,  a  motion  was  made 
to  limit  the  speeches  ;  on  that  Charlie  led  off  in  a  half 
hours'  talk  against  the  motion.  I  modestly  suggested, 
visitors  ought  to  be  made  an  exception,  if  they  would 
be  reasonable  in  the  time  they  would  talk.  But  it  was 
no  go,  the  thing  was  fixed.  I  thought,  if  I  behaved  nice- 
ly, they'd  put  me  up  to  preach  Sunday  at  11  o'clock. 
I  held  my  watch  in  my  hand  and  quit  on  time,  but 
Charlie  talked  for  half  an  hour.  The  Moderator 
seemed  to  think  the  speakers  were  to  keep  their  own 
time.  Late  Saturday,  I  was  read  out  to  preach  that 
night,  and  the  brother  who  preached  the  Introductor}' 
was  to  preach  the  next  day.  Seeing  I  had  no  chance 
for  the  next  day,  I  asked  that  I  might  preach  to  the 
children  next  morning  at  10  o'clock.  The  request  be- 
ing granted,  I  begged  that  all  the  children  for  five  miles 
around  might  be  brought. 

It  was  a  great  success,  the  house  was  packed  with 
children — the  grown  people  Hning  the  walls  around. 
For  an  hour,  over  the  heads  of  the  precious  children, 
I  preached  to  every  one  who  loved  Jesus  to  heed  His 
last  great  commission.  I  doubt  if  I  ever  did  tell  the 
Story  of  Jesus  more  earnestly  or  effectively  than  on 
that  occasion.  I  am  sure  many  were  deeply  impressed. 
When  I  was  about  to  leave  that  afternoon,  I  shook 
hands  with  old  Brother  Kirby,  the  Moderator,  who 
said :  **Come  to  see  us  again,  we  are  to  meet  next  year 
down  in  the  valley  and  I  think  we  will  treat  you  bet- 
ter." 


222  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

I  have  told  all  this  to  tell  about  the  spirit  of  the 
next  meeting.  I  was  sick  and  could  not  go,  but  Char- 
lie was  there.  He  wrote,  or  told  me  of  it,  about  this 
way:  "They  met  in  the  valley  and  had  great  crowds. 
They  talked  me  nearly  to  death.  When  I  protested 
that  I  had  quit  preaching  because  of  the  condition  of 
my  throat,  they  said:  "We  want  you  to  represent 
yourself  and  Brother  Crumpton  too,  we  treated  him 
so  bad  last  year,  we  want  to  make  amends  for  it." 

There,  was  as  hopeless  a  set  as  could  be  found,  yet 
by  tact  and  kindness,  they  could  have  been  led  into 
the  light.  The  Association  broke  up  in  a  few  years. 
By  the  diHgence  of  our  enlistment  workers,  I  doubt 
not  the  spirit  of  that  section  is  rapidly  changing.  The 
School  Teacher  and  the  Missionary  Preacher  will 
wheel  the  Mountain  Baptists  into  line  for  the  con- 
quest of  the  world. 

I  was  impressed  with  the  number  of  men  on  the 
ground  Sunday,  in  new  Yankee  uniforms.  I  asked 
a  brother  what  it  meant.  His  reply  was: 
"These  mountains  were  filled,  during  the  Civil  War, 
with  deserters  from  the  Confederate  army.  Many  of 
them  went  over  to  the  Yankees  and  served  in  the  ar- 
my. Fort  Payne  is  being  boomed  by  New  Hampshire 
people.  They  found  out  about  these  fellows  and  sent 
droves  of  them  to  Boston  to  the  reunion  of  the  G.  O. 
P.,  and  they  have  just  gotten  back  in  these  uniforms. 
Another  thing  you  may  take  notice — the  women  are 
crazy  about  them.  It  is  no  trouble  for  one  of  them  to 
marry,  no  matter  how  old  he  is.  All  of  them  are  get- 
ting pensions ;  and  if  one  of  these  old  fellows  marries 
a  girl  and  dies  in  a  little  while,  she  is  fixed  for  an  in- 
come for  life."  My,  what  a  revelation  was  that !  And 
what  a  mixture  of  vicious  elements :  Deserters,  illi- 
cit distillers,  pension-grabbers  and  anti-missionaries! 
Surely  that  was  missionary  ground.  So  the  Pension 
Scandal  continues,  a  half  century  after  the  war. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  223 

Those  who  read  my  story  of:  "How  a  Boy  Got 
Through  the  Lines  to  the  Confederacy,"  will  recall 
how  the  boy  came  near  getting  into  trouble  in  Camp 
Douglas,  Chicago,  making  too  free  with  an  Alabama 
Regiment,  who  were  under  suspicion.  I  do  not  know 
if  they  ever  went  over  to  the  Yanks ;  I  fear  they  did 
— anyway,  there  were  thousands  in  the  mountains  of 
our  beloved  State,  who  did  go  over.  I  have  run  upon 
several  nests  of  them  in  my  travels. 

It  was  on  this  trip  a  Methodist  preacher,  who  had 
dismissed  his  congregation  to  hear  my  children's  ser- 
mon made  this  speech  to  me:  "I  am  glad  you  came 
up  here  and  especially  glad  you  preached  that  sermon 
to  the  children,  nothing  like  that  was  ever  heard  in 
these  parts.  I  am  up  here  looking  after  a  few  small 
congregations,  but  I  am  making  no  impression  on  any 
but  my  own  people.  They  are  all  very  kind  to  me  and 
treat  me  with  utmost  respect,  but  they  are  Baptists 
and  the  Lord  is  going  to  hold  you  Baptists  responsible 
for  the  Mountain  People."  That  brother  spoke  a  par- 
able !  That,  with  what  I  had  observed  and  heard,  made 
me  feel  more  than  ever  the  responsibility.  The  words 
of  Jesus  are  so  simple  and  meaningful,  the  ordinances 
are  so  plain  in  their  meaning,  the  common  people  hear 
the  Baptists  gladly,  as  they  did  when  He  walked 
among  them  in  times  of  old.  The  one  Book,  they 
read,  and  it  is  about  all  their  reading;  they  accept  its 
teaching  as  far  as  they  are  informed,  heartily.  Their 
leaders,  many  times,  are  men  of  strong  prejudices, 
bold  and  uncompromising  and  their  people  are  loyal 
followers-  The  man  who,  with  a  bitter  spirit,  antag- 
onizes them,  or  who  becomes  offended,  will  never  ac- 
complish anything  among  them. 


224  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

CHAPTER  5. 
Some  Preachers  and  Laymen  I  Have  Known. 

Jackson  Gunn  and  Josephus  Shackelford  are   two 

men,  inseparable  in  my  mind. 

The  Muscle  Shoals  Association,  one  of  the  historic 
bodies  of  the  State,  dates  back  to  1820.  At  first  it 
covered  a  number  of  Alabama  counties,  Lamar,  Lau- 
derdale, Colbert,  Marshall,  besides  Franklin,  Lawrence 
and  Morgan. 

Jackson  Gunn  came  from  Tennessee  to  Tuscumbia 
for  half  time  service  to  that  church.  He  once  attended 
Georgetown  College,  Kentucky.  My  acquaintance  with 
him  was  almost  entirely  Associational  and  Conven- 
tional. He  was  a  magnificent  specimen  of  a  man, 
and  to  my  mind  a  born  orator,  though  he  never  dream- 
ed anybody  would  write  that  of  him.  I  heard  him  on 
several  occasions  and  always  associated  him  in  my 
mind  with  B.  H.  Carroll  of  Texas.  If  he'd  had  Car- 
roll's training  and  experience,  the  world  would  have 
heard  of  him.  He  was  modest,  extremely  so  I  thought, 
but  he  w^as  a  power  in  his  day.  He  accumulated  con- 
siderable wealth  and  loved  his  home  and  farm.  He 
was  fond  of  evangelism  and  made  extended  trips.  In 
the  beginning  of  our  State  Mission  Board's  work  he 
was,  for  a  short  while,  one  of  the  Board's  evangelists. 
He  was  Moderator  of  his  Association  for  twenty-seven 
years.  He  served  his  County  one  year  in  the  Legis- 
lature— he  didn't  like  it,  for  he  felt  it  was  a  "Coming 
down  of  the  ministry  and  feared  younger  preachers 
would  be  influenced  to  follow  his  example."  Whether 
they  all  heard  of  this  great  man's  service  to  the  State 
or  not,  many  young  preacherss  especially  in  North 
Alabama,  have  felt  the  pull  of  politics.  Some  have 
been  of  very  great  service  to  the  State  in  this  way; 
but  alas !  it  was  the  ruin  of  others. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  225 

Josephus  Shackelford,  was  another  giant  of  a 
preacher.  He  was  of  strong  build,  a  graduate  of  Mer- 
cer University.  He  began  life  on  the  farm,  tried  sol- 
diering a  little  while,  when  a  boy  just  as  the  war  with 
Mexico  was  closing.  After  graduating  a  preacher,  he 
was  teacher,  editor  of  a  religious  paper,  the  Christian 
Herald,  at  Moulton  and  later  of  a  secular  paper,  the 
North  Alabamian  at  Tuscumbia.  He  was  a  Legisla- 
tor, one  year — he  was  indeed,  a  many-sided  man.  If  he 
could  have  given  his  whole  time  to  the  ministry,  unfet- 
tered by  business,  what  a  power  he  might  have  been ! 
As  it  was,  he  made  good  in  every  place  he  served.  He 
and  Gunn  were  companions,  the  great  leaders  of  the 
Baptist  hosts  in  that  section.  There  were  others,  of 
course,  R.  T.  Wear  among  them,  to  make  that  great 
body,  in  that  rich  section  of  Alabama,  great  for  God 
and  the  Baptists.  Fine  schools  at  Moulton,  LaGrange 
and  Athens,  had  diffused  a  fine  literary  leaven  which 
is  working  still  in  all  that  part  of  the  State.  But 
somehow,  these  leaders  did  not  grip  the  world-wide 
missionary  spirit  and  lead  their  people  to  doing  great 
things.  Like  so  many  other  sections  of  the  State  they 
preached  missions  and  answered  objections,  but  didn't 
lead  the  people  to  give  for  missions.  A  mission  ser- 
mon without  a  mission  collection  following,  does  but 
little  good.  For  years  this  Secretary  went  into  that 
section  and  didn't  collect  enough  to  pay  expenses.  Anti- 
Missions  did  its  paralyzing  work  in  this  region,  in 
spite  of  the  strong  mission  preachers. 

After  all,  the  main  trouble  was,  the  denomination  in 
Alabama  was  a  sleeping  giant,  with  no  organized  forces 
undertaking  great  things  for  God.  Things  began  to 
look  up  as  soon  as  the  forces  of  the  State  were  or- 
ganized. 

J.  J.  Beeson  of  Jackson:  I  met  him  only  a  time 
or  two,  but  I  learned  much  of  the  heroic  work  he 
did   in   his   mountain   home   at   Pisgah,    twelve    miles 


226  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

across  the  river  from  Scottsboro.  He  was  a  one- 
armed  Confederate  soldier  and  preacher.  He 
established  an  Academy  and  built  up  a  fine  school 
equal  to  those  of  R.  H.  Pratt  in  Bibb,  or  W.  Y.  Ad- 
ams at  Walnut  Grove.  The  founder  died  in  the 
midst  of  his  greatest  usefulness,  but  the  school  has 
been  carried  on  and  is  now  one  of  the  Home  Mission 
Board's  Mountain  schools. 

R.  L.  Quinn;  fell  a  victim  of  the  Flu  in  1918,  right 
in  the  prime  of  life.  He  was  reared  on  a  farm  in  Law- 
rence County.  His  ministerial  life  was  given  almost 
entirely  to  the  churches  of  the  Muscle  Shoals  Asso- 
ciation. Coming  on  after  the  old  leaders  were  pass- 
ing out  of  the  active  leadership  of  the  Association,  he 
naturally  became  the  leader  in  the  richest  territory 
and  largest  Association  in  the  State.  His  training  en- 
abled him  to  teach,  as  well  as  preach.  He  was  a  well- 
informed,  fluent  talker  and  was  regarded  as  among  the 
best  of  the  younger  preachers.  He  developed  also  a 
talent  for  business  and  took  high  rank  among  busi- 
ness men.  Moving  to  Hartselle,  one  of  the  best  towns 
in  that  part  of  the  State,  he  became  the  pastor  of  the 
church  and  by  indomitable  will,  backed  by  a  strong 
membership,  he  led  in  the  construction  of  one  of  the 
most  elegant  houses  of  worship  to  be  found  in  that 
section.  While  his  great  Association  was  not  noted 
for  its  enthusiastic  support  of  the  work  of  the  Con- 
vention, it  was  friendly  and  had  Quinn  lived,  it  is 
probable  he  would  have  brought  it  to  be  a  leading 
force  in  the  State. 

My  first  visit  to  this  region  was  at  Danville.  My 
home  was  with  Brother  Orr,  a  large  land  owner  and  a 
patron  of  the  Judson.  In  the  course  of  conversation, 
speaking  of  this  beautiful  rich  country,  he  chanced  to 
remark,  he  was  "land-poor."  "Suppose,"  said  I,  "Our 
Colleges  should  undertake  to  raise  a  Landed  endow- 
ment from  men  in  your  condition,  would  you  be  wil- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  227 

ling  to  help,"  He  answered  at  once,  in  the  affirmative. 
I  was  then  living  in  Marion,  the  seat  of  our  two  schools. 
At  a  meeting  of  the  local  Trustees,  I  named  the  mat- 
ter and  suggested,  if  I  were  authorized,  I  could  with- 
out any  expense  to  the  schools,  get  thousands  of  acres 
given.  It  was  as  clear  to  me  as  daylight,  but  our  Trus- 
tees, a  jocose  set  of  old  men,  passed  it  by  with  a  laugh 
about  a  small  tract  on  a  sandy  ridge  which  had  been 
given  them,  which  they  had  tried  in  vain  to  sell.  The 
land  about  Danville,  far  away  from  the  railroad,  can 
hardly  be  bought  for  any  price  now.  Easily  w^e  might 
have  secured  land  that  would  have  been  worth  today  a 
half  million  dollars. 

R.  E.  Pettus.  One  can't  write  of  the  Tennessee  Val- 
ley Baptists  without  mentioning  this  old  hero.  He 
has  been  the  most  faithful  layman  in  that  part  of  the 
State  to  look  after  every  interest  of  the  denomination. 
He  lives  within  a  few  miles  of  where  he  was  born.  Not 
many  things  of  importance  to  Madison  County  hap- 
pen, that  he  has  not  had  a  part  in.  The  North  Liberty 
Association  and  Huntsville  have  been  especially  on  his 
heart.  Criticised  and  opposed,  he  has  been  as  true  as 
the  needle  to  the  pole.  In  the  most  beautiful  city  of 
the  valley,  among  anti-missionaries  in  the  city  and  in 
the  county,  he  has  been  sometimes  almost  alone  in 
his  contentions.  Graduated  from  the  State  Univer- 
sity, he  has  always  been  loyal  to  his  Alma  Mater  and 
at  the  same  time  a  true  friend  to  our  Baptist  schools. 
Pettus'  commanding  figure  in  an  assembly  will  always 
be  noted.  His  speeches  are  never  long,  but  they  ring 
true.  His  home  has  been  wide  open  for  all  the  breth- 
ren traveling  in  the  interests  of  the  denomination — 
so  much  so,  that  I  always  headed  for  the  "Pettus 
House"  on  landing  in  the  city.  The  three  or  four  fac- 
tory churches,  about  the  city,  owe  much  to  his  fath- 
erly care,  during  their  days  of  trial.  Brother  Pettus 
has  been  a  member  of  the  Board  for  years  and  though, 


228  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

at  the  extreme  end  of  the  State,  he  has  been  present 
at  almost  very  meeting. 

Wm.  A.  Davis,  is  another  layman  who  must  be  men- 
tioned if  anything  is  written  about  the  Baptists  of  the 
State.  His  father,  B.  B.  Davis,  was  a  business-like, 
pains-taking,  Secretary  of  the  State  Convention,  and 
his  son  fell  beautifully  into  his  place,  when  he  was 
called  home.  His  seventeen  years  as  Secretary,  fol- 
lowing his  father's  nine  years,  makes  him  an  impor- 
tant character  in  the  history  of  the  Baptists.  He  never 
makes  a  speech.  If  appointed  on  a  committee,  he  makes 
his  report  briefly,  explains  everything  clearly  and  that 
is  all  he  does  in  a  public  way  at  the  Conventions.  His 
eye  is  on  everything  and  he  glides  from  one  point  to 
another,  making  suggestions,  on  the  quiet,  and  in  al- 
most every  instance  his  suggestions  are  adopted. 
While  he  is  always  loaded  down  with  business,  he 
finds  time  to  be  at  the  Convention.  In  his  church  and 
in  his  town,  his  place  could  not  be  filled  if  he  were 
called  away  He  is  a  tither,  that  means,  he  gives 
freely  of  his  means  to  the  cause,  but  he  is  very  careful 
about  spending  the  Lord's  money.  He  has  been,  for 
years,  entrusted  with  the  Endowment  Funds  of  How- 
ard and  not  a  soul  has  ever  had  a  doubt  but  it  would 
be  handled  right.  The  Lord  knows  how  to  run  His 
own  business,  but  it  seems  to  me  this  world  needs 
more  men  of  the  stamp  of  W.  A.  Davis ;  if  left  to  me,  I 
guess  I'd  make  about  half  of  them  after  his  pattern. 

Since  writing  these  notes,  W.  A.  Davis,  for  the  first 
time,  has  been  put  at  the  head  of  a  great  enterprise  by 
the  Convention.  He  is  Chairman  of  the  Orphanage 
Commission;  probably  as  deHcate  a  matter  as  was  ever 
handled  by  a  Commission.  Every  one  feels  the  mat- 
ter is  safe  in  his  hands.  May  the  tribe  of  this  man 
never  grow  less. 

Anniston,  would  not  class  herself  with  the  Mountain 
Baptists,  but  according  to  the  geography  I  have  in 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  229 

mind,  she  is  of  the  Mountains.  I  would  say :  A  Gem  of 
the  Mountains.  Brother  E.  T.  Smythe  was  on  the 
ground  as  soon  as  Anniston  started.  He  was  a  farmer- 
preacher,  who  Hved  near  the  town,  moved  in,  pur- 
chased property,  organized  the  First  Church  and  be- 
gan preaching,  in  a  grove,  under  appointment  of  the 
State  Board ;  it  was  a  great  work  he  did  too.  I  doubt 
if  he  w^as  an  enthusiastic  missionary,  but  he  was  an 
untiring  worker,  a  wise  and  discreet  leader. 

It  was  a  great  event  in  the  history  of  Baptists,  as 
well  as  for  Anniston,  when  Duncan  Parker,  not  him- 
self a  Baptist,  in  memory  of  his  Baptist  wife,  erected 
the  splendid  structure  which  is  known  as  The  Parker 
Memorial. 

With  the  City,  the  Church  has  grown,  until  it  is 
among  the  most  aggressive  and  liberal  in  the  State. 
Oxford,  only  a  little  way  down  the  valley,  is  a  strong, 
conservative  old  body.  Hereabouts  at  Oxanna,  Glen 
Addie  and  other  points  in  the  Association,  the  Board 
has  helped  with  its  money  to  great  advantage.  For- 
tunately for  Anniston  and  the  State,  George  A.  Nunal- 
ly  became  the  first  pastor  of  Parker  Memorial.  He  was 
a  versatile  man,  fitting  beautifully  into  the  team  of 
strong  pullers  and  constructive  workers  at  an  impor- 
tant period  in  our  Baptist  history. 

A  little  lower  down  is  Talladega,  a  thriving  little 
city  in  a  most  fertile  valley.  There,  Renfroe  did  the 
work  of  his  life.  George  Lofton  for  a  time  served  them 
well.  Later  the  polished  gentleman  and  scholarly 
preacher,  J.  A.  French  was  their  pastor,  afterwards 
most  acceptably  he  served  Eufaula.  At  Jacksonville, 
the  old  county  seat  of  Calhoun,  lived 

Captain  Jas.  A.  Crook.  He  was  a  strong  force  in 
his  Association  and  prominent  in  State  politics.  M.  L. 
Lane,  a  strong  preacher,  was  his  pastor  for  a  time. 

Brother  J.  C.  Wright,  one  of  the  salt  of  the  earth, 
lived  at  Oxford  when  I  first  visited  that  place.    He  was 


230  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

brought  to  Alabama  early  in  life,  graduated  at  How- 
ard and  for  a  time  served  Newbern,  then  a  strong 
church  I  judge.  Later  he  served  one  of  the  Mobile 
churches  and  for  some  years  he  served  Oxford.  He 
W3.S  a  scholarly,  courtly  gentleman,  modest  as  a  wo- 
man, he  never  passed  for  half  he  was  worth. 

J.  A.  Scott,  was  the  jolliest  old  bachelor  preacher  I 
ever  knew.  He  was  one  of  the  two  or  three  preach- 
ers I  have  known,  who  worried  along  through  life 
without  the  companioship  of  a  good  woman,  thus  miss- 
ing the  joys  of  wedded  life  and  robbing  some  fine  wo- 
man of  the  privilege  of  having  a  good  husband.  He 
was  born  in  South  Carolina,  was  once  a  Methodist 
Classleader.  He  was  one  of  the  many  old  Confeder- 
ates who  became  a  preacher,  being  ordained  in  1862. 
The  only  country  church  in  the  State  having  preach- 
ing every  Sunday,  was  Harmony  in  Choccolocco  Val- 
ley and  Brother  Scott  was  its  pastor  for  thirty-eight 
years.  It  was  a  great  joy  to  be  with  this  good-natured 
servant  of  the  Master.  Like  many  another  in  those 
days,  when  little  was  expected  of  the  churches,  Broth- 
er Scott  was  a  good  missionary,  but  he  seldom  took 
collections  for  it.  Timidity,  I  am  sure  was  the  rea- 
son. Maybe,  he  asked  for  something  to  send  to  the 
Association  once  a  year,  but  there  was  no  effort  to  get 
anything  oftener. 

CHAPTER  6. 

Gadsden  is  another  Mountain  Gem,  which  has,  in 
the  memory  of  the  writer,  grown  into  a  thriving  busi- 
ness center,  destined  to  continue  to  expand  as  the 
years  go  by.  At  Alabama  City,  Attalla,  and  other 
points  up  and  down  the  Q.  &  C,  and  up  the  mountain 
road,  the  Mission  Board  has  been  a  mighty  factor  in 
developing  Baptist  interests. 


^  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  231 

W.  Y.  Adams:  If  I  say  he  is  not  handsome  he  will 
not  dispute  it.  He  is  a  jewel,  that  will  go  in  the  crown 
of  the  King.  He  came  from  Blount  County  to  Marion 
to  Howard  College.  He  made  a  speech  to  Colonel 
Murfee  something  like  this :  "I  come  to  you  to  pre- 
pare me  to  teach  the  mountain  boys  and  girls  in  my 
County.  I  want  to  take  the  studies  I  most  need  and 
to  equip  myself  in  the  shortest  possible  time."  Noth- 
ing could  have  pleased  Colonel  Murfee  better.  He 
talked  of  Adams  and  his  success,  as  long  as  he  lived. 
I  do  not  know  the  time  he  took  in  school — I  know  he 
did  not  graduate.  But  what  a  blessing  his  Walnut 
Grove  College  has  been  to  the  Mountain  Counties ! 
Many  of  the  leading  men  of  that  section  are  among  his 
graduates.  Brother  Adams  is  a  preacher,  but  always 
had  to  have  a  supplement  by  teaching.  He  repre- 
sented Blount  County  in  the  last  Legislature  and  a 
good  member  he  made.  Schools  like  Walnut  Grove, 
Six  Mile,  Pisgah  and  Newton,  have  been  ruled  out, 
but  according  to  my  thinking,  the  best  educational 
work  that  can  be  done,  is  there.  Besides  the 
work  of  Brother  Adams'  teaching,  his  life  has  been  a 
benediction  to  Blount  and  Etowah  Counties.  As  Mo- 
derator of  his  Association  he  has  exerted  a  wide  in- 
fluence for  good. 

Further  to  the  west,  up  and  down  the  main  line  of 
the  L.  &  N.,  and  further  on  west,  to  Jasper,  on  the 
railroads  radiating  from  that  much  alive  town,  the 
missionaries  of  the  Board  have  been  in  evidence. 

Brother  L.  B.  Harbin:  The  first  time  I  visited  the 
North  River  Association,  it  was  at  Jasper.  It  was 
a  large  body  and  might  be  classed  with  the  Mountain 
Baptists.  One  of  its  Pioneer  Preachers,  was  Brother 
Harbin ;  a  great  old  man  was  he.  Without  education, 
but  good  sense  and  devotion  to  the  cause  had  charac- 
terized his  life.  He  was  a  thorough  missionary  and, 
on  that  account,  had  many  things  to  tell  of  the  oppo- 


232  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

sition.  On  this  occasion,  he  was  making  his  report 
to  the  Association,  of  work  he  had  done  under  the  ap- 
pointment of  the  Executive  Committee.  He  was  sent 
to  *'the  destitution"  and  had  incidentally  visited  some 
of  the  churches.  His  salary  was  about  75  cents  or  $1.00 
per  day.  In  his  report  he  said:  "Brotherin,  I  find  objec- 
tion everywhur  I  go.  One  question  asked  by  all  is: 
*Whur  does  the  money  go'?"  As  he  said  it,  he  raised 
his  hand  with  the  index  finger  pointing  downward  and 
you  could  imagine  they  heard  it  drop  to  the  bottom 
of  the  ocean.  The  dear  old  soul,  was  working  for 
only  a  pittance  a  day  and  the  Executive  Committee 
still  owed  a  part  of  that — every  cent  raised  would 
go  to  him,  but  there  were  men,  mean  enough  to  ex- 
press a  doubt  about  the  expenditure  of  the  money. 

In  almost  all  the  opposition  Associations,  I  took  that 
as  the  introduction  to  my  speech :  "Whur  does  the 
money  go?"  If  it  brought  on  discussion,  as  some- 
times it  did,  I  was  glad.  Things  were  generally  set- 
tled with  the  thinking  people,  when  I  was  through. 

W.  C.  Woods,  of  Lamar  County  will  be  surprised  to 
know  I  mention  him  in  my  Memories,  but  he  richly 
deserves  much  more  than  I  will  be  able  to  say  about 
him.  Like  many  another,  he  never  did  pass  for  a  for- 
tieth of  his  worth.  He  loves  the  Lord,  and  was  given 
a  mind  and  heart  to  know  and  love  his  people.  Often, 
he  was  in  the  minority,  out-talked,  out-voted,  but  he 
never  lost  his  head,  or  uttered  a  bitter  word.  "Watch- 
ful waiting"  with  the  opposition,  was  his  method,  be- 
fore Woodrow  Wilson's  policy  with  the  Mexicans  was 
ever  thought  of.  At  his  own  cost,  he  distributed 
books  and  Bibles,  scattered  tracts  and  hauled  and 
housed  Secretaries  and  other  ministers,  through  his 
territory.  He  had  the  pleasure  to  see  the  opposing 
forces  fall  to  pieces  of  their  own  weight,  and  the  forces 
of  righteousness  win  a  right  to  live  and  work  for  the 
wide  world's  redemption.  In  all  the  territory,  where 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  233 

once  an  association,  excluded  from  its  membership  all 
the  churches  that  affiliated  with  the  Southern  Baptist 
Convention,  W.  C.  Woods  is  the  happiest  man.  He  won 
the  day,  not  by  denunciation,  but  by  faithful  work  and 
righteous  living.  One  beautiful  thing  about  it  is, 
they  of  the  opposition,  respect  him. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  write  up  the  younger  living 
brethren,  but  when  they  wedge  in  with  the  incidents 
related  about  the  older  brethren,  I  must  write  some- 
thing of  them. 

It  was  the  policy  of  the  Board  to  use  our  young 
preachers  as  Missionaries;  generally,  we  employed 
a  student  for  the  summer  to  act  as  missionary  col- 
porter. 

Before  there  was  a  railway  in  the  Northwest  Sec- 
tion, a  young  Brother  Nash  was  sent  over  the  moun- 
tains, and  worked  all  summer.  Young  Brother  Har- 
ris was  the  next  man ;  he  is  now  one  of  our  great  mis- 
sionaries in  China. 

The  first  man,  with  a  family  to  settle  in  that  sec- 
tion, was  J.  E.  Barnes,  now  of  Central  Church,  Mobile. 
As  he  went  into  the  homes  and  held  services,  and  talk- 
ed at  the  firesides,  of  the  better  things  religiously  that 
might  be  theirs,  of  church  improvements,  of  Sunday 
Schools,  of  missions  and  a  ministry  better  paid,  giv- 
ing more  time  to  the  work  to  which  they  are  called, 
some  of  the  preachers  became  alarmed.  One  of  them 
said :  "We  see  now  through  it  all.  These  young  fel- 
lows are  putting  new  notions  into  the  heads  of  the  peo- 
ple. If  this  thing  goes  on,  we  preachers  that  don't 
know  about  these  new  ways,  will  have  to  get  churches 
to  serve  further  back.  Let*s  raise  a  kick;"  and  a  kick 
they  did  raise.  That  was  what  W.  C.  Woods  was  up 
against.  It  finally  culminated  in  the  unhappy  event 
spoken  of  above.  Then  the  Lamar  County  Association 
was  organized.  It  might  have  been  called  "Liberty," 
that  is  what  they  were  contending  for  and  what  they 


234  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

got  by  going  to  themselves  after  their  exclusion.  Lib- 
erty to  work  and  give  and  co-operate. 

J.  H.  Longcrier  w^as  a  Boanerges,  who  fought  bat- 
tles when  it  was  necessary.  He  was  pastor  in  Jasper, 
easily  in  reach  of  the  territory  I  have  been  describing. 
An  adventurer,  who  had  given  it  out  that  he  was  some 
great  personage,  went  to  the  Association  and  skinned 
the  Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board.  When  he  was 
through,  Loncrier  arose  and  said:  "The  Brother 
thought  the  Secretary  was  not  here,  but  he  was  right 
here  and  heard  every  word  he  said."  The  fellow  be- 
gan to  look  around,  and  all  necks  were  craned  to  see, 
when  the  speaker  went  on :  'T  am  W.  B.  Crumpton, 
Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board  today."  Then  he  went 
in  to  wipe  up  the  earth  with  the  fellow,  as  nobody  else, 
not  even  the  Secretary,  could  have  done,  had  he  been 
present.  Later  Longcrier  moved  to  Lamar,  the  ter- 
ritory of  W.  C.  Woods,  the  modest  old  man  of  God, 
of  whom  I  have  written. 

The  Lord  doesn't  need  many  Longcriers,  or  he 
would  have  raised  up  more,  but  he  needs  some  men 
strong  of  body,  and  voice  and  mind,  unafraid,  informed 
and  loving  God,  hating  sham  and  capable  of  knocking 
into  smithereens  the  subterfuge  of  deception. 

Lamar  County  and  several  counties  of  North  west 
Alabama  were  put  on  the  Missionary  map,  largely 
through  the  labors  of  Jim  Longcrier,  aided  by  a  few 
modest  men  of  God  like  W.  C.  Woods. 

Keep  your  eye  on  that  section.  Great  coal  mines 
are  there,  the  Baptists  numerous  and  the  miners  are 
going  to  be  there  by  the  hundreds  of  thousands. 

One  of  the  old  heroes  of  Jones'  Valley,  I  must  not 
fail  to  mention.  I  refer  to  Andrew  Jackson  Waldrop, 
familiarly  known,  in  his  old  age,  as :  "Uncle  Jackie." 

He  was  born  in  Christian  County,  Kentucky,  in  1815. 
His  life  in  Alabama  began  when  he  was  only  three 
years  old.    How  much  education  he  got,  or  where  he 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  235 

got  it,  I  do  not  know.  But  I  do  know,  his  native  ability, 
his  down-right  honest  way  of  getting  along  and  his 
out-spoken  opinion,  put  him  at  the  front  as  a  leader 
of  men.  He  was  modest,  but  not  timid,  or  cowardly. 
I  doubt  if  he  knew  what  fear  was.  He  was  baptized  in 
1833,  by  the  grand  old  hero,  Hosea  Holcomb  and  join- 
ed him  as  a  preaching  companion,  after  he  was  or- 
dained in  1842. 

For  half  a  century,  he  was  counted  as  one  of  the 
wisest  leaders  among  Baptists  in  North  Alabama.  He 
was  pastor  of  Ruhama  (East  Lake)  church  for  thirty 
years.  He  gave  much  time  to  missionary  work.  Be- 
cause of  the  propaganda  of  missionary  truth,  by  him 
and  Hosea  Holcomb,  it  is  said,  the  Hardshells  did  not 
flourish  in  Jefiferson  County.  He  was  a  man  of  af- 
fairs, taking  an  interest  in  all  that  concerned  the  peo- 
ple and  was  made  Clerk  of  the  Court  and  Tax  Collec- 
tor of  his  county  for  a  number  of  years.  He  was  a 
business  man  and  always  had  a  good  home  of  his  own. 
He  was  clerk  of  the  Canaan  (Birmingham)  Asso- 
ciation from  1844  to  1857  when  he  was  made  Modera- 
tor, serving  in  that  capacity  for  41  years. 

He  was  the  great  peace-maker  of  all  that  section, 
being  sent  for  long  distances  to  settle  church  troubles. 
He  had  one  son,  E.  B.,  who  became  a  preacher  and  an- 
other, R.  J.,  who  became  Professor  of  Mathematics  in 
Howard  College  when  the  Institution  was  moved  from 
Marion  to  East  Lake.  **Big  Jud"  the  boys  called  him 
and  he  was  much  loved  by  his  people. 

Uncle  Jack  fell  asleep  in  his  81st  year  and  was  buried 
in  the  great  valley  where  for  so  many  years,  he  had 
spent  his  useful  life. 

The  Lord  be  praised  for  men  of  his  type ! 
J.  E.  Cox  was  born  near  Raleigh,  N.  C,  in  1837. 
In  1850  while  in  Arkansas  he  was  converted. 
In  1859  he  was  baptized  by  the  old  veteran,  L.  B. 
Harbin  in  Walker  County.    While  a  soldier,  like  many 


236  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

another,  he  made  vows  to  God  of  service  should  he  be 
spared.  Through  the  influence  of  a  pious  wife  he  first 
ventured  to  pray  in  the  home.  When  he  became  a 
school  teacher,  he  opened  his  school  with  prayer.  Af- 
ter many  misgivings,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  and 
later  was  set  apart  to  the  full  work  of  the  ministry. 
While  teaching  at  Jasper,  the  county  seat  of  Walker 
County,  he  organized  a  church  there,  which  he  served 
for   several  years. 

T.  M.  Bailey,  the  first  Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board 
found  him  teaching  school  and  serving  churches  and 
for  several  years  had  him  as  one  of  the  Board's  evan- 
gehsts.  Most  of  the  Ministry  of  his  day  have  passed 
away.  Not  one  beside  himself,  of  his  fellow  evangel- 
ists, except  the  writer  of  these  lines,  remain.  Brother 
Cox  is  a  man  of  frail  build,  but  to  the  limit  of  his 
strength,  he  has  answered  the  Master's  call  and  now  in 
his  83rd  year  awaits  His  summon  to  "Come  Home." 

John  B.  Appleton  was  born  in  South  Carolina  in  1827. 
His  mother  was  a  Waller,  a  grand  daughter  of  John 
Waller  of  Virginia,  a  noted  Baptist  preacher,  who  in 
the  days  of  persecution  in  Virginia  was  imprisoned 
for  preaching  and  through  the  grated  windows  of  the 
jail  preached  to  the  people  assembled  on  the  outside. 
He  joined  the  church  at  19,  came  to  Alabama  in  43. 
After  many  experiences  with  all  sorts  of  teachers,  he 
got  a  pretty  good  education.  Enough  to  enable  him 
to  teach  acceptably.  In  1885  he  was  ordained.  Dr.  J. 
J.  D.  Renfroe,  preaching  the  sermon. 

He  was  Moderator  of  the  Cherokee  Association  for 
25  years  and  pastor  of  Collinsville  for  35  years.  Rear- 
ed on  a  farm  he  felt  the  pull  of  the  farm  throughout 
his  life.  Most  of  his  ministry  was  given  to  Dekalb 
and  Cherokee  counties.  I  am  sure  he  had  some  rich  ex- 
periences in  his  ministry,  but  I  was  unable  to  get  any 
of  them.  My  recollection  of  him  is:  He  was  a  very 
modest  man — I  judge   he  was  not   combative   in  his 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  237 

ministry,  though  if  his  doctrines  were  assailed  he 
could  have  stood  his  own  with  most  any  one  who 
would  face  him. 

He  lived  in  The  Big  Wills  Valley,  a  section  noted 
for  its  fertile  lands.  I  judge  he  secured  a  good  farm 
and  tended  it  well. 

I  had  an  experience  with  a  fine  man  once,  a  member 
of  one  of  his  churches.  The  brother  drove  a  good 
horse — that  is  always  the  sign  of  a  thrifty  fellow  in 
the  country.  He  told  me  how  he  became  possessed 
of  a  few  acres  of  the  valley  land,  how  hard  he  worked 
and  later  became  the  owner  of  a  larger  body — later 
still,  of  a  larger  farm,  until  now  he  had  a  fine  farm 
which  he  was  successfully  working  with  improved 
implements.  It  came  out  in  the  conversation  that  now, 
one  could  hardly  buy  land  in  the  valley.  It  was  very 
valuable.  The  conversation  turned  on  the  church  life. 
Brother  Appelton  was  the  pastor,  had  been  his  fath- 
er's pastor.  In  the  days  of  his  father  they  paid  the 
pastor  $100  and  they  kept  it  still  at  the  same  figure. 
The  people  had  become  wealthy  in  the  possession  of 
lands,  all  lived  well  in  good  homes  and  the  dear  old 
hero  rode  from  his  farm  down  the  Valley  once  a  month 
at  the  same  salary  paid  in  the  days  of  this  brother's 
father. 

Grand  old  men  they  were,  but  they  failed  to  teach 
the  churches  their  duty  to  support  the  ministry.  If 
one  will  think,  he  can  see  a  good  reason  for  their 
being  remiss  in  this.  How  could  they,  when  they  were 
giving  practically  all  their  time  to  secular  employ- 
ment? Thus  the  churches  were  set  back  a  century.  It 
will  be  many  years  before  they  will  recover 
from  the  wrong  lessons  they  were  taught  in  those 
early  days.  And  to  this  good  day,  there  are  hundreds 
of  preachers  who  are  doing  as  dear  Brother  Appleton 
did.  The  way  he  did,  all  did  in  that  day.  But  after  all 
we  owe  much  to  the  pioneer  preachers  of  that  day. 


238  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Mention  has  been  made  of  the  first  Church,  Birm- 
ingham, with  Purser  as  pastor,  to  be  followed  with  W. 
L.  Pickard  and  he,  by  B.  D.  Gray,  now  the  incompar- 
able Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Home  Mission 
Board  of  Atlanta.  The  first  pastor  of  the  Southside 
was  J.  J.  D.  Renfroe ;  he  was  followed  by  P.  T.  Hale, 
a  great  pastor,  with  an  evangelistic  turn,  which  led 
him  to  hold  meetings  in  his  church  frequently.  Thus, 
he  built  up  a  great  membership  of  aggressive  people. 
After  Hale,  came  A.  C.  Davidson,  who  did  here  prob- 
ably the  work  of  his  life. 

The  first  drive  ever  pulled  off  in  Alabama  was  by 
the  Judson  people,  when  in  six  weeks  the  Institution 
was  swept  clear  of  debt.  J.  C.  Bush  of  Mobile,  with 
a  generous  gift,  was  the  instigator  of  the  movement. 
That  fired  the  hearts  of  the  Howard  and  State  Mis- 
sion people,  and,  under  the  leadership  of  Gray,  Dav- 
idson and  J.  G.  Lowry,  whose  influence  brought  D.  L. 
Lewis,  one  of  his  members,  to  start  the  ball  rolling 
with  a  gift  of  $5,000.  Thus  a  great  achievement  was 
put  over,  which  served  to  put  the  Baptists  on  the  map, 
as  a  great  force  in  the  State.  Never  before,  had  they 
thought  they  could  do  anything  beyond  the  ordinary. 
While  that  achievement  meant  very  much  to  us,  I 
doubt  not,  it  helped  to  lift  Gray  out  of  the  pastorate 
into  general  work.  Acclaimed  a  great  money  raiser, 
he  was  soon  called  away,  where  that  sort  of  talent  was 
in  great  demand.  I  have  followed  him  with  my  pray- 
ers and  will  do  so  to  the  end. 

Generally  when  a  Secretary  has  read  his  report  and 
one  or  two  of  the  picked  speakers  have  girated,  the 
Convention  is  ready  to  go  on  to  something  else.  Not 
so,  when  Gray  reads  his  report ;  no  matter  who  the 
spell-binder,  who  has  spoken,  or  is  expected  to  speak, 
there  is  an  insistent  call  for  Gray.  There  is  no  man 
in  the  body,  heard  with  more  pleasure.  What  a  power 
he  is  !     May  his  tribe  increase  ! 


Part  Eight 
CENTRAL  ALABAMA  BAPTISTS 

CHAPTER  I. 

These  might  be  embraced  in  east  and  west  Hnes  run- 
ning below  Birmingham  and  extending  South  as  far 
down  as  Greenville  in  Butler  County.  The  section  em- 
braces the  famous  "Black  Belt,"  called  so,  because  of 
the  black  soil  that  covers  much  of  the  territory,  or  the 
predominance  of  the  negro  race. 

Here  lived  before  the  Civil  War  the  most  wealthy 
people  of  the  State.  Their  slaves  were  the  most  val- 
uable property  they  possessed,  consequntly  they  were 
the  worst  hurt  when  freedom  to  the  slaves  came  and, 
they  were  slowest  to  recover  from  the  effects  of  the 
war. 

Because  of  their  wealth  and  their  proximity  to  the 
best  schools,  they  were  easily  the  most  cultured  peo- 
ple of  the  State. 

The  State  University  at  Tuskaloosa,  the  Howard  and 
Judson  at  Marion  and  Baptist  Colleges  for  girls  at 
Tuskegee  and  Tuskaloosa,  two  Methodist  Colleges,  at 
Greensboro  and  Auburn,  noted  schools  at  Oxford  and 
LaFayette  and  numbers  of  private  schools  in  many 
towns,  furnished  Central  Alabama  with  school  advan- 
tages not  enjoyed  by  any  other  part  of  the  State. 

The  Baptist  paper  in  the  State  was  printed  in  this 
territory  from  the  start  as  the  following: 

"Historical  Sketch  of  the  Alabama  Baptist"  shows : 

About  1835  "The  Family  Visitor"  a  Baptist  paper 
was  printed  in  Wetumpka,  Rev.  John  D.  Williams  was 
its  editor.  Five  years  later,  it  was  turned  over  to  Gen- 
eral E.  D.  King  and  Dr.  Milo  P.  Jewett  at  Marion 
where   it   was  published  as   "The  Alabama   Baptist." 


240  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Nine  years  later  it  is  spoken  of  "as  of  limited  circula- 
tion but  potent  for  good  among  the  churches  of  the 
State."  The  name  was  changed  to:  "The  Alabama 
Baptist  Advocate,"  Dr.  A.  W.  Chambliss,  editor.  After 
the  failure  of  "The  Western  Recorder,"  a  Baptist  pa- 
per in  New  Orleans,  the  subscription  list  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  Marion  paper,  which  was  the  only  Bap- 
tist paper  published  between  the  Chattahoochee  and 
the  Rio  Grande,  and  the  name  was  changed  to  "The 
South  Western  Baptist." 

In  1852  the  paper  was  moved  to  Montgomery,  own- 
ed by  a  stock  company,  A.  Williams  and  Samuel  Hen- 
derson editors.  Two  years  later  it  was  moved  to  Tus- 
kegee,  then  a  strong  Baptist  center  in  the  State  and 
Dr.  Henderson  became  editor  in  chief.  A  little  later 
it  was  purchased  by  the  Convention  from  Judge  W.  P. 
Chilton  for  $3,000. 

In  1856  Rev.  H.  E.  Taliaferro  of  Talladega,  joined 
Dr.  Henderson,  his  brother-in-law,  in  editorial  man- 
agement, after  a  few  years  to  become  editor-in-chief 
when  Dr.  Henderson  resigned.  Rev.  John  E.  Dawson 
of  Georgia  became  associate  editor.  During  the  Civil 
War  Dr.  Henderson  again  became  editor. 

In  1865  "The  South  Western  Baptist"  was  merged 
into  the  "Christian  Index"  of  Atlanta,  Georgia,  in 
which  an  Alabama  Baptist  page  was  printed,  Dr.  Sam- 
uel Henderson,  editor. 

After  seven  years,  "The  Alabama  Baptist,"  a  new 
paper  was  started  in  Marion,  Dr.  W.  W.  Wilkerson 
and  J.  B.  Lovelace  furnishing  the  money.  Dr.  E.  T. 
Winkler  became  editor-in-chief.  His  associates  were 
E.  B.  Teague,  J.  J.  D.  Renfroe  and  D.  W.  Gwin.  David 
Lyon  a  ministerial  student  of  Howard  College,  was 
business  manager.  Later  the  paper  was  given  to  the 
convention  by  the  two  generous-hearted  laymen  who 
owned  it,  Rev.  John  L.  West  being  office  manager. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  241 

Selma  became  the  place  of  publication.     It  was  given 
to  West  and  others  about  1876. 

In  1877  it  was  burned  out.  In  1881  Dr.  W.  C.  Cleve- 
land of  Selma,  became  editor,  he  and  West  becoming 
the  owners.  In  1884  it  became  the  property  of  Maj. 
J.  G.  Harris,  who  brought  it  to  Montgomery.  For  a 
few  years  it  was  leased  to  C.  W.  Hare  and  Jas.  Pope. 
For  one  year,  W.  B.  Crumpton,  purchasing  a  half  in- 
terest, became  the  editor  with  E.  F.  Baber,  the  long- 
time office  editor. 

In  1902  it  was  sold  to  Rev.  Frank  Willis  Barnett  and 
moved  to  Birmingham.  For  a  short  time  it  was  known 
as  "The  Southern  and  Alabama  Baptist,"  but  in  a  lit- 
tle while  resumed  the  old  name. 

In    1919,    after    seventeen     years,     it     returned     to 

Montgomery,   becoming  the  property  of  the   Baptist 

Convention,  with  Dr.  W.  F.  Yarbrough,  acting  editor. 

Now  May  28th,  1920,  it  is  in  Birmingham  edited  by 

L.  L.  Gwaltney. 

This  closes  the  brief  story  of  the  paper  showing 
that  the  Baptists  of  Alabama  have  practically  had,  in 
continuous  publication  a  paper  since  1835 — 85  years. 

With  the  advantage  of  great  wealth,  great  schools 
and  the  publication  of  their  paper,  it  is  little  wonder 
that  the  Baptists  of  Central  Alabama  were  in  advance 
of  their  brethren  in  other  sections.  Their  culture 
brought  to  them  also  cultivated  preachers.  The  loca- 
tion of  the  Home  Mission  Board  in  1845  at  Marion, 
furnished  another  source  of  religious  influence  which 
told  mightily  for  their  advantage.  Its  Secretary  and 
the  strong  men  of  the  denomination  from  the  North 
and  East,  had  a  fine  moulding  effect  upon  them  and 
their  children. 

Another  factor  in  their  favor  was  the  running  of 
the  railroad  east  and  west  across  the  State.  There  was 
no  road  until   1870,  running  north   and   South.     The 


242  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

brethren  in  the  north  were  cut  off,  so  that  the  Conven- 
tion for  years  was  practically  a  Central  Alabama  affair. 

Now  I  come  to  the  later  times.  There  was  no  such 
destitution  here  as  I  found  in  the  Tennessee  Valley 
and  other  sections.  Where  there  had  been  need  of 
help,  the  Home  Mission  Board  at  Marion  had  extended 
it.  But  there  were  towns,  without  Baptist  churches 
and  many  churches  without  pastors.  Some  churches 
had  practically  gone  out  of  existence,  having  only  a 
few  widely  scattered  members. 

G.  S.  Anderson  was  brought  from  South  Carolina 
and  did  fine  work  in  the  Black  Belt,  planting  churches 
at  Lowndesboro  and  other  points  and  resuscitating 
those  at  Demopolis,  Uniontown,  Hayneville  and  New 
Berne. 

When  the  Secretary  called  attention  to  the  situa- 
tion at  Eutaw,  the  county  seat  of  Green  County,  with 
only  three  members,  two  women  and  one  man,  a  prom- 
inent member  of  the  Board  announced  it  as  his  belief, 
that  we  should  not  undertake  to  hold  places  where 
the  case  seemed  hopeless.  The  Secretary  stood  out 
for  holding  every  inch  of  ground  and  his  contention 
saved  Eutaw  from  abandonment.  Joe  Herring,  a 
young  fellow  about  through  school,  was  our  first  mis- 
sionary pastor  there.  For  years,  the  church  has  been 
a  strong  self-sustaining  body.  This  is  only  an  ex- 
ample of  the  work  done  in  those  days,  saving  weak 
churches,  where  to-day  we  have  as  strong  churches 
as  others  and,  in  some  cases,  stronger. 

The  story  of  Greensboro  is  a  sad  one.  There,  the 
great  Methodist  College,  the  Southern  University, 
was  located.  Of  course  that  denomination  was  in  the 
ascendancy.  The  Baptists  once  had  a  good  church, 
how  strong,  I  do  not  know.  After  the  Civil  War,  the 
Carpet  Baggers  and  the  Freedman's  Bureau  were  in 
charge.  The  negroes  were  allowed  to  vote  and  the 
Legislatures  were  elected  to  carry  out  the  reconstruc- 


A   BOOK   OF    MEMORIES.  243 

tion  ideas  of  the  powers  that  then  existed.  Wisely, 
maybe  they  made  the  new  county  of  Hale.  The  Bap- 
tist church  stood  in  a  very  prominent  place  in  the 
town  and  was  wanted  for  a  Court  House.  The  church 
was  probably  weak  in  membership  of  white  people, 
with  a  very  large  membership  of  negroes.  They  be- 
came discouraged  and  were,  unwisely,  I  think,  advised 
to  sell  their  property.  A  good  price  was  given  for  it. 
Fifteen  hundred  of  the  amount,  went  to  assist  the  ne- 
groes to  build  them  a  house  and  the  balance  was  given 
to  Howard  College  and  used  to  tide  it  over  the  period 
of  reconstruction. 

I  always  hung  my  head  when  I  passed  Greensboro, 
to  think  that  one  of  the  best  towns  in  the  State,  a 
County  Seat,  was  without  a  Baptist  church.  After 
conferring  with  S  .0.  Y.  Ray,  our  church-builder,  he 
went  there  to  spy  out  the  land.  He  made  his  report 
and  was  willing  to  undertake  the  job.  He  gathered 
the  few  Baptists  together  and  organized. 

Seeing  the  Financial  Secretary  of  the  Methodist  Col- 
lege he  said  to  me  :  *T  understand  you  are  going  to  un- 
dertake to  build  a  church  in  Greensboro.  I  am  glad  of 
that;  when  the  time  comes,  I  will  help  you  raise  the 
money.  We  need  one  of  your  churches  there.'*  He  had 
the  right  spirit  about  it. 

After  the  work  was  inaugurated,  Ray  retired  to  un- 
dertake a  difficult  job  elsewhere  and  young  brother 
A.  R.  Hardy,  of  Mississippi,  a  nephew  of  the  writer, 
was  put  in  charge.  He  was  a  full  graduate  of  Missis- 
sippi College,  and  of  a  Medical  College.  God  called 
him  into  the  ministry  and  he  took  the  full  course  in 
the  Seminary  at  Louisville.  With  a  cheerful  heart, 
he  undertook  the  difficult  task  and  was  succeeding  glo- 
riously when  the  grim  Reaper  appeared.  Not  until 
the  revelations  of  the  last  great  day,  will  be  under- 
stand why  he  was  taken,  in  the  midst  of  prospective 


244  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

usefulness  on  this  needy  field.  At  a  memorial  service 
in  Greensboro,  Dr.  Geo.  B.  Eager,  taking  a  leading 
part.  Dr.  Otts,  a  Presbyterian  minister,  delivered  what 
the  paper  rightly  denominated : 

"A  Remarkable  Tribute,"  v^hich  I  am  constrained  to 
give  here  as  a  part  of  the  sad  story  of  Greensboro. 

"Brother  Hardy  did  not  live  long  among  us,  but  he 
lived  long  enough  for  us  to  catch  the  spirit  of  his  con- 
secrated life.  His  death  was  not  a  violent  martyr- 
dom, but  it  was  the  self-sacrifice  of  a  consecrated  life. 
He  was  literally  exhausted,  worn  out,  in  what  he  be- 
lieved to  be  his  God-appointed  work.  He  had  but 
one  idea,  he  lived  among  us  for  but  one  thing;  to  ga- 
ther a  congregation,  and  to  rebuild  the  Baptist  church 
in  this  town.  In  this  work  he  was  impelled  by  a  di- 
vine passion  for  it.  He  worked  beyond  his  physical 
strength.  Truly,  it  may  be  said  of  him,  "The  zeal  of 
thy  house  has  eaten  me  up."  When  he  began  this 
work,  few  among  us  thought  that  he  would  ever  suc- 
ceed; he  was  so  modest  that  he  seemed  to  be  held 
back  by  a  timidity  that  prophesied  ultimate  failure.  He 
was  modest,  but  he  was  brave;  he  was  quiet  but  hd 
was  persistent.  He  manifested  the  spirit  of  a  man 
who  was  called  to  his  work.  His  life  said,  "This  one 
thing  I  do.  It  is  my  divinely  appointed  task."  There 
was  a  peculiarity  in  him  that  I  often  wondered  at  and 
admired:  he  let  everybody  know  that  he  was  a  Bap- 
tist, and  that  he  had  come  into  the  community  to  re- 
suscitate the  cause  of  the  Baptists,  and  to  plant  and 
build  up  a  Baptist  church ;  and  yet,  while  thus  in- 
tensely denominational,  he  gave  no  offense  to  any  one. 
He  was  denominational,  but  not  sectarian.  He  was 
always  spoken  of  by  people  of  all  denominations  as 
"our"  Baptist  preacher,  and  his  church  enterprise  as 
"our"  Baptist  church.  This  was  the  peculiar  power 
of   Brother  Hardy.     It   was   the   spirit   of   Christ   in- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  245 

tensely  devoted  to  his  denominational  conviction.  He 
was  not  bigoted.  He  was  broad-minded  and  pure- 
hearted.  He  felt  a  genuine  interest  in  everybody  and 
in  everybody's  church ;  and  therefore,  everybody  in 
all  churches  felt  a  genuine  interest  in  him  and  his 
w^ork. 

This  is  manifested  in  what  we  see  before  our  eyes 
tonight.  Here  we  are  in  the  Methodist  church.  All 
the  other  churches  are  closed.  The  house  is  crowded. 
I  have  been  connected  with  the  religious  life  of  Greens- 
boro for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century ;  I  have  been 
in  all  kinds  of  meetings  in  all  of  our  churches ;  I  have 
wept  with  those  who  wept,  and  rejoiced  with  those 
who  rejoiced;  but  in  some  respects,  this  memorial  ser- 
vice here  tonight  is  at  one  and  the  same  time,  the  most 
solemn  and  the  sweetest  union  meeting  that  it  has  ever 
been  my  privilege  to  share  in. 

The  spirit  of  the  Master  is  here,  and  the  spirit  of 
his  servant  is  here,  even  of  him  who  was  faithful 
unto  death.  The  workman  has  departed,  but  his 
work  will  not  cease.  The  Master  will  raise  up  help  and 
helpers,  and  carry  it  on  to  completion." 

The  Mission  Board  though  not  in  existence  when  the 
Greensboro  Church  was  dissolved  and  the  property 
sold,  readily  recognized  the  claim  the  Church  had  on 
the  Convention,  and  liberally  aided  in  the  support  of 
the  pastor. 

It  is  a  great  joy  to  me  to  think  of  the  nice  church 
building  and  pastor's  home  and  the  preacher  for  all 
time,  they  now  have.  The  Methodist  church  was  not 
hurt  by  our  going,  their  College  was  greatly  helped 
and  the  whole  community  benefited. 

At  Auburn,  another  Methodist  stronghold,  their  Col- 
lege became  the  Agricultural  and  Mechanical  College, 
belonging  to  the  State.  Large  numbers  of  Baptist  boys 
attend     the     school.       The     Mission     Board,     rightly 


246  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

enough,  considered  it  its  duty  to  see  that  these  boys 
had  a  spiritual  home  while  they  were  in  college.  The 
church,  unable  to  support  a  full  time  preacher,  was 
helped  by  the  Board. 

CHAPTER  2. 

If  Central  Alabama  begins  at  Birmingham  and  ex- 
tends beyond  Montgomery,  those  two  cities  are  on 
the  north  and  south  borders  and  may  be  claimed.  A 
book  might  be  written  about  these  two  alone.  The 
first  Church  at  Birmingham  was  helped  in  the  begin- 
ning by  the  Home  Board  for  a  little  while.  The  South- 
side,  was  born  able  to  walk  alone,  no  Board  helping 
it.  But  almost  every  other  church  in  all  that  sec- 
tion, except  Ruhama  (East  Lake)  and  possibly  one  or 
two  more,  were  organized  or  aided  by  missionaries  of 
the  Board. 

The  strong  churches  in  our  centers  miss  great  op- 
portunities when  they  do  not  give  direction  and  aid  at 
points  where  new  interests  should  be  started.  What 
is  said  of  Birmingham  is  equally  true  of  Montgom- 
ery, the  Capital  City.  Every  Baptist  church  there  ex- 
cept the  old  First,  has  been  aided  by  the  Mission 
Board.  In  all  the  territory  between  these  cities,  in 
almost  every  new  town  the  Board  has  lent  a  helping 
hand.  The  Ministerial  Students  at  Howard  College 
have  been  a  great  force.  Some  have  criticised  the 
boys  and,  some  of  them  deserve  it,  but  on  the  whole, 
they  are  doing  and  have  done,  valuable  work. 

I  spoke  of  the  wealth  in  slaves  which  the  Central 
Alabama  people  enjoyed ;  that  was  long  before  any- 
body dreamed  of  the  wealth  that  was  coming  to  the 
northern  border  of  this  territory  in  coal  and  iron. 
Much  of  the  wealth  accumulated  there  is  falling  into 
Baptist  hands  and  will  be  consecrated  to  God's  serv- 
ice.    We  have  a  forecast  of  this  in  the  effort  made 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  247 

in  the  75  million  campaign  when  the  Birmingham  As- 
sociation rolled  up  the  magnificent  sum  of  $800,000. 
I  think  I  can  best  finish  the  story  of  this  section  by 
telling  of 

Some  of  the  preachers  and  laymen  I  have  known. 

W.  C.  Clevelzuid:  It  is  easy  in  a  way  to  write  about 
him,  I  knew  him  so  well.  He  was  one  of  the  finest 
types  of  a  Southern  gentleman.  Reared  in  the  heart 
of  the  Black  Belt  near  Selma,  in  a  home  of  culture 
and  refinement,  thoroughly  equipped  at  the  University 
of  Alabama  and  the  medical  college,  he  became  a  prac- 
ticing physician,  for  a  time  in  Macon,  Ga.  But  he  heard 
the  call  of  God  and  entered  the  ministry.  Old  Shiloh 
twelve  miles  from  Selma,  was  the  home  church  of  the 
family.  While  in  Georgia,  he  was  made  Superintendent 
of  a  great  Sunday  School.  Doubtless  God  used  that 
school  to  pull  him  into  the  preaching  service.  I  met  him 
first  in  1870,  when  he  was  pastor  at  Carlowville.  He  had 
what  he  called  "an  ideal  pastorate — two  churches  about 
ten  miles  apart,  with  several  miles  of  bad  road  between 
so  that  the  congregations  could  not  visit  each  other, 
thus  enabling  the  pastor  to  use,  without  embarrass- 
ment, the  same  sermon  for  each  place."  He  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  a  man,  genial  as  a  school  boy,  but  digni- 
fied as  a  judge,  when  occasion  required.  A  great  stick- 
ler for  propriety,  he  was  the  very  kind  of  a  man  for 
me  to  fall  in  with  in  the  beginning  of  my  ministry  as 
I  was  by  temperament,  a  rough  rider.  Though  a  dili- 
gent student  and  forceful  speaker,  he  seldom  trusted 
himself  to  speak  without  a  manuscript.  On  his  feet, 
at  a  5th  Sunday  meeting  he  could  make  a  thrilling 
speech,  off  hand. 

He,  more  than  any  other  man  in  the  State,  was  at 
the  bottom  of  all  the  planning  for  progress  among 
the    Baptists.      During    his    pastorate    at     Selma     his 


248  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

greatest  work  was  done.  I  doubt  not,  he  it  was,  who 
managed  the  scheme  to  make  his  senior  deacon,  Judge 
Jonathan  Haralson,  President  of  the  State  Conven- 
tion. 

Cleveland  suffered  much  with  insomnia — he  could 
talk  most  of  the  night  to  one  he  was  interested  in  and 
seem  none  the  worse  for  it  next  day.  In  that,  I  prob- 
ably was  some  help  to  him,  for  I  was  a  great  sleeper 
and  certainly  shut  him  off  early  in  the  night  when  we 
were  together,  as  we  often  were.  Anything  like 
coarseness,  or  irreverence  he  could  not  for  a  moment 
tolerate.  He  began  a  meeting  with  me  in  a  fine  town. 
I  was  most  anxious  and  so  expressed  myself  to  him. 
A  great  sermon  he  gave  us  in  the  morning  to  a  full 
house.  That  night  the  house  was  packed,  the  preacher 
seemed  to  be  at  his  best  as  he  discoursed  from  the 
text :    "Prepare  to  Meet  Thy  God." 

A  profound  impression  was  made  upon  the  whole 
congregation,  much  intensified,  when  one  of  the  finest 
men  in  town  marched  up  the  aisle  taking  the  hand  of 
the  preacher  saying,  "Pray  for  me."  His  wife  would 
have  us  to  go  home  with  them.  Reaching  the  home 
the  man  brought  up  the  subject  at  once.  I  sat  by  while 
they  talked.  After  awhile  the  man  said :  "I  see  it  all 
as  plain  as  daylight.  You  preachers  are  the  most  pa- 
tient men  on  earth — you  make  the  truth  plain  to  us 
and  we  march  right  out  of  the  church  and  go  on  living 
as  before.  Not  the  least  discouraged,  you  will  get  up 
the  next  sermon  and  preach  to  the  same  crowd,  from 
another  angle.  We  know  you  are  dead  in  earnest  in 
our  behalf  and  no  selfish  motives  possess  you.  I  can't 
see  how  you  have  the  patience,  if  it  was  me,  Td  cuss 
'em  out  and  quit."  I  saw  at  once  what  had  happened, 
when  the  preacher  pushed  his  chair  back  and  never 
spoke  another  word. 

When  we  went  to  our  room  he  said:  "Wash,  Fm 
going  home  in  the  morning."  And  go  he  did,  in  spite 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  249 

of  all  the  protesting-  I  could  muster.  The  man  meant 
not  the  least  disrespect,  had  just  spoken  out  in  a  plain 
blunt  fashion — really  in  complimentary  terms  of  the 
ministry.  But  the  preacher's  sensitive  nerves  were 
shocked  and  he  couldn't  rally.  Cleveland,  in  spite  of 
his  sensitive  nature,  was  a  great  leader.  He  was  Pres- 
ident of  the  Convention,  editor  for  a  time  of  the  Ala- 
bama Baptist  and  leader  of  the  Baptist  hosts  until  his 
health  failed  him.  He  was  the  chief  adviser  of  Bailey, 
our  first  Secretary  and  adopted  me  as  my  big  brother 
when  I  stepped  into  the  place  made  vacant  by  the  going 
of  Bailey  from  the  State. 

I  spoke  of  his  being  foremost  in  the  progressive 
movement;  T.  M.  Bailey  was  his  faithful  ally,  but  for 
him  I  doubt  if  Cleveland  would  have  been  as  efficient 
— indeed  they  were  each  essential  to  the  other.  Truly 
a  great  man  in  Israel  fell  when  Cleveland's  light  went 
out. 

George  Miles,  a  layman,  the  son  of  an  old,  unpre- 
tentious, godly  preacher.  He  learned  business  well 
and  carried  his  business  into  his  religion.  I  do  not  re- 
member how  many  fraternities  he  belonged  to — he 
seemed  to  love  them  all ;  but  he  loved  his  church  and 
gave  his  time  to  it  without  stint.  When  I  was  off  in 
Kentucky,  he  became  President  of  the  Board.  As  soon 
as  the  way  opened,  he  it  was,  who  began  the  move- 
ment to  have  me  back.  It  is  generally  considered  un- 
wise to  call  a  man  back  to  a  place  he  once  occupied. 
I  do  not  know  if  there  was  much  discussion  over  the 
proposition  to  bring  me  back, — I  never  inquired,  but 
George  wrote  the  letter.  I  didn't  have  my  ear  to  the 
ground  listening — indeed  I  didn't  know  of  the  vacancy, 
but  when  the  invitation  came,  I  answered  by  wire,  ac- 
cepting. My  work  in  Kentucky  had  been  pleasant.  It 
was  a  great  country  and  the  people  were  hospitable, 
my  wife  and  children  were  well  pleased,  but  I  had  not 
felt  at  home  a  day.    I  was  too  old  to  transplant.    I  told 


250  A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

my  friends,  when  I  returned,  if  the  moving  bee  began 
buzzing  in  their  bonnets,  when  they  were  over  fifty 
years  old,  they  had  better  write  me  and  find  out  how 
an  old  fellow  felt  in  a  new  country — I  might  save  them 
some  unhappy  days  and  the  moving  expenses.  I  had 
accomplished  something,  as  agent  for  Georgetown  Col- 
lege and  had  some  great  plans  ahead,  which 
afterwards,  were  partially  carried  out.  My  ser- 
vices were  profitable  to  the  College,  but  my  best  work 
remained  to  be  done  in  Alabama.  When  I  returned, 
George  Miles,  Gid  Harris,  George  Ellis  and  the  rest, 
received  me  with  open  arms. 

For  sixteen  years,  what  a  work  the  Lord  enabled  me 
to  do! 

Crushed  at  the  loss  of  my  wife,  whose  remains  I 
brought  back  to  Marion,  I  was  saved  from  despair  by 
leaping  into  the  most  arduous  work  I  ever  did. 

A  debt-paying  campaign  was  on  in  the  interest  of 
Howard  and  the  Mission  Board.  It  was  a  mercy  to 
me  to  become  immersed  in  that  movement.  My  wife, 
through  all  the  years,  had  been  a  faithful  minder  of 
*'the  stuff"  while  her  husband  was  out  in  the  Lord's 
work. 

As  President  of  the  Board,  George  Miles  was  my 
chief  adviser ;  his  heart  was  tender,  his  judgment  good, 
his  decisions  quick.  When  I  returned  I  took  up  anew 
the  Prohibition  fight,  as  a  sort  of  side  line.  George  was 
an  ardent  supporter  in  that.  He  became  chairman  of 
a  Law  and  Order  League  in  Montgomery.  Many  busi- 
ness men  were  afraid  to  be  active.  Montgomery  was 
not  only  a  wet  town,  it  was  soaked  through.  There 
was  a  bad  element,  who  dared  to  do  anything.  Threa- 
tening letters  were  often  received  by  men  who  were 
active ;  scandalous  stories  were  circulated  to  injure 
characters  and  personal  violence  was  threatened. 
George  Miles  was  acquainted  with  all  these  things, 
but  he  didn't  waver.    When  other  men  took  cold  feet. 


A   BOOK   OF   iMEMORIES.  251 

lest  their  business  should  be  injured,  he  stood  by  his 
convictions.  What  a  friend  I  lost  and  what  a  leader 
of  the  denomination  was  gone,  when  he  was  called 
home. 

Judge  Jonathan  Haralson:  He  was  my  friend,  ready 
to  see  me  anywhere  at  any  time,  I  knew  nothing  about 
office  work,  book-keeping  and  the  like  and  needed 
some  one,  with  a  sympathetic  heart  to  coach  me.  I 
found  in  this  distinguished  man  the  friend  I  needed. 
He  was  a  genial  soul,  an  accomplished  gentleman  of 
the  old  school,  but  could  "condescend  beautifully,  to 
men  of  low  estate."  He  was  so  pleasant  in  his  manners, 
that  a  brother  in  the  Convention  said,  "Judge  Haral- 
son has  such  a  pleasing  way  of  silencing  a  fellow,  he 
really  felt  better  after  it  was  done,  than  if  he  had 
been  allowed  to  go  on." 

His  election  to  the  Presidency  of  the  South- 
ern Baptist  Convention  was  a  memorable  event 
at  Memphis.  The  session  was  held  in  a  build- 
ing, much  too  small  for  the  crowd — it  was  pack- 
ed, the  delegates  taking  most  of  the  pews,  others  had 
to  stand  around  the  walls.  Ex-Governor  Eagles  as 
Vice-President,  undertook  to  organize  the  Conven- 
tion. He  was  as  good  a  man  as  could  be  found  and 
everybody  had  the  most  profound  respect  for  him, 
but  he  knew  nothing  whatever  about  parliamentary 
practice.  He  made  blunder  after  blunder  in  his  rulings 
and  things  began  to  go  to  pieces.  Finally  the  point 
w^as  reached  when  nominations  were  in  order;  M,  B. 
Wharton  of  Montgomery,  got  the  floor  and  nominated 
Jonathan  Haralson  of  Alabama.  I  think  there  were  no 
others — any  way,  the  judge  was  elected.  When  he  took 
the  gavel,  giving  it  a  sharp  rap  or  two  and  with  his 
clear  ringing  voice,  called  the  house  to  order,  there 
was  perfect  quiet  and  everybody  knew  a  master  hand 
was  directing  affairs.  The  moment  he  declared  the 
Convention  ready  for  business.  J.  M.  Frost,  his  pastor, 


252  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

secured  recognition.  "What  is  it  Sir?"  the  Judge  said 
in  a  commanding  tone.  "I  want  to  make  a  motion," 
said  Frost.  With  a  rap  of  the  gavel  came  the  answer: 
"Sit  down  sir,  you  are  out  of  order."  From  that  mo- 
ment the  Convention  became  aware  that  the  king  of 
parliamentarians  was  on  the  throne.  The  episode  be- 
tween the  Judge  and  his  pastor  worked  so  beautifully 
I  accused  them  of  having  rehearsed  it  before  they  left 
home,  but  they  insisted  it  was  entirely  impromptu  and 
it  was,  of  course. 

Judge  Haralson  held  the  place  of  City  Judge  in  Sel- 
ma  for  some  years,  and  finally  died  an  Associate  Jus- 
tice of  the  Supreme  Court. 

A  good  and  true  man,  loved  and  honored  by  his  Bap- 
tist brethren  and  all  the  citizens  of  a  great  State.  He 
served  the  Convention  as  President  for  17  years,  and 
the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  9  years  and  neither 
Convention  ever  had  a  better. 

When  H.  S.  D.  Mallory  was  called  home,  he  was  72 
years  old  and  for  more  than  a  half  century  had  been 
a  Christian.  He  was  pre-eminently  God's  friend  and 
a  friend  of  humanity.  His  church  life  was  beautiful. 
Great  lawyer  that  he  was,  humble  as  a  little  child  as 
he  sat  at  the  feet  of  his  pastor  to  learn,  he  then  went 
out,  as  a  "doer  of  the  word." 

He  loved  and  well  served  his  denomination  and  was 
implicity  trusted  by  his  brethren.  When  the  Mission 
Board  was  located  at  Selma,  in  1880,  he  became  one 
of  its  members  and  remained  one  as  long  as  his  health 
would  permit. 

When  there  were  differences  in  the  Board,  he  it  was 
who  reconciled  them;  when  legal  advice  was  needed, 
it  was  his  pleasure  to  give  it. 

He  was  conservative  by  nature,  but  when  sure  of 
his  ground,  nothing  could  move  him.  As  President  of 
the  Baptist  State  Convention  for  five  years,  he  guided 
well  the  affairs  of  the  body.     But  his  interest  did  not 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  253 

stop  with  his  denomination,  he  loved  Christian  men 
wherever  found. 

He  was  a  Democrat  in  the  stormy  days  of  reconstruc- 
tion. Chairman  of  the  State  Committee  at  one  time, 
leading  the  party  through  tempest  and  storm,  ap- 
plauded by  every  loyal  Democrat.  He  was  one  of 
the  first  prominent  public  man,  to  declare  for  Prohibi- 
tion. When  he  made  the  race  for  Governor,  he  bold- 
ly avowed  that  cause.  That  was  more  than  the  wet 
forces  in  the  party  could  stand  and  they  decreed  his 
defeat.  The  HOW  of  its  doing,  is  known  only  to  the 
wily  politicians  of  that  day.  Not  a  soul  doubted  his 
ability ;  he  was  clean  of  character  and  everybody  was 
his  personal  friend,  but  he  feared  God  and  loved  hu- 
manity, and  would  rather  be  right  than  to  be  Gov- 
ernor. When  he  declared  his  hatred  for  BOOZE, 
the  leaders  knifed  him.  Without  a  murmur,  he  ac- 
cepted defeat,  returned  to  his  lovely  home  and  to  the 
practice  of  his  profession.  How  glad  we  were  that  he 
lived  to  see  prohibition  triumphant  in  the  State  and 
throughout  the  Nation. 

Making  the  campaign  for  Governor,  was  probably 
the  hardest  burden  he  ever  carried.  One  of  the  secrets 
of  his  modest,  but  great  life,  came  out  when  he  said  to 
the  writer,  during  that  time  :  "Brother  Wash,  the  cost 
of  this  thing,  will  be  considerable  and  I  am  not  a  rich 
man  and,  I  may  lose  it  after  all ;  but  I  don't  feel  that, 
like  I  do  my  absence  from  home.  I  am  a  home-lover — 
didn't  know  how  I  loved  it  until  this  came  on."  That 
home-loving  man  and  his  queenly  wife,  presiding  over 
his  home  and  a  family  of  intelligent,  loyal  children, 
was  one  of  the  most  lovely  sights  in  all  Selma.  When 
that  noble  wife  was  taken  from  him  a  year  before  his 
death,  the  light  of  his  life  went  out.  He  was  never 
himself  again.  His  children,  as  loyal  a  band  as  parent 
ever  had,  rallied  around  him  and  did  all  that  was  pos- 
sible to  make  him  happy  and  comfortable.    Every  Bap- 


254  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

tist  heart  and  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  him,  went 
out  in  deepest  sympathy  to  these  bereaved  children, 
especially  to  Miss  Kathleen,  of  whom  her  father  was 
so  proud.  His  last  end  was  beautiful:  while,  repeating 
the  Lord's  prayer,  maybe  in  concert  with  some  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  when  his  lips  repeated:  *"Thy  will 
be  done,"  he  became  unconscious.  It  was  my  sad 
pleasure  to  be  present  at  his  funeral. 

Selma  certainly  did  him  honor.  All  stores  were 
closed,  the  street  cars  stopped  running  and  the  people 
from  the  whole  country  were  represented. 

The  thin  line  of  old  Confederates,  with  their  grey 
hairs  and  their  feeble  steps,  were  there  to  honor  the 
memory  of  the  man  who,  when  only  a  boy,  entered  the 
Confederate  service. 

H.  R.  Schramme:  No  more  worthy  preacher  ever 
lived  in  Alabama.  As  his  name  indicates,  he  was  de- 
scended from  German  stock.  He  once  kept  a  little 
store  in  the  suburbs  of  Eufaula.  He  was  converted  at 
a  meeting  held  in  the  first  Baptist  Church.  When  he 
announced  his  purpose  to  preach,  the  Association  took 
him  up  and  sent  him  to  Howard  College. 

He  was  ever  grateful,  especially  to  the  first-church, 
for  their  aid.  In  his  prayers  he  often  plead  with  the 
Lord  to  help  him  in  his  studies,  acknowledging  his 
weakness  and  telling  the  Lord  how  good  his  people 
had  been  to  him  and  what  a  disappointment  it  would 
be  to  them,  if  he  should  fail  of  graduation. 

If  I  mistake  not,  when  the  time  drew  near  for  the 
final  examination  and  he  was  fearful  of  failure,  he 
made  the  same  plea  with  the  faculty.  Not  noted  for 
brilliancy,  but  for  dogged  persistence  and  deep  relig- 
ious feelings,  he  gained  the  respect  of  every  student 
and  professor. 

Colonel  Murfee  is  reported  to  have  said:  "Schramme 
found  it  very  difficult  to  master  his  studies,  but  when 
he  came  to  Moral  Science,  he  took  to  it  like  a  duck 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  255 

to  water."  As  a  preacher  he  was  noted  for  his  ac- 
tivity as  a  pastor  and  a  burning  zeal  for  the  salvation 
of  men. 

He  was  a  zealous  advocate  of  missionary  endeavor 
and  a  loyal  supporter  of  the  organized  work  of  the 
denomination.  Because  of  his  persistence  in  urging 
missionary  collections,  he  did  not  retain  a  pastorate 
long.  I  said  to  him,  when  he  was  taking  a  new  field : 
"Schramme,  don't  set  your  missionary  colter  too  deep 
at  the  start.  Get  acquainted  with  your  people  first, 
then  you  can  lead  them."  But  he  thought,  to  give 
them  the  best  first  and  the  best  in  his  estimation,  was 
to  bring  them  to  give  for  missions.  There  were  Bap- 
tists then  as  now,  who  didn't  like  it  and  he  was  soon 
packing  his  goods  for  another  move. 

He  had  in  him,  the  stuff  martyrs  are  made  of — he 
would  have  burned  at  the  stake,  for  what  he  believed. 

He  died  a  horrible  death,  mistaking  carbolic  acid 
for  a  harmless  drug. 

J.  M.  Frost:  It's  a  long  time  since  I  first  saw  him. 
It  was  January,  1867,  at  Georgetown,  Kentucky.  I,  a 
man  of  twenty-five,  an  ex-Confederate,  with  little 
educational  preparation,  entering  the  academy,  he  ten 
years  my  junior,  just  from  his  home  on  a  Kentucky 
farm,  from  under  the  religious  training  of  his  preacher- 
father,  and  well  prepared  to  enter  college.  He,  A.  C. 
Davidson  and  I  were  members  of  the  same  debating 
society.  After  about  two  years,  I  quit  College,  and 
returned  to  my  native  State,  he  remained  until  gradu- 
ation. My  school  recollections  of  him  were :  He  was 
a  hard  student  and  always  wanted  to  know.  The  class 
was  often  detained  by  Frost's  questions.  Not  many 
evenings  passed  in  the  debating  society  that  he  didn't 
"volunteer,"  if  the  opportunity  opened. 

Fifteen  years  after  we  parted,  when  I  was  on  my 
farm,  20  miles  away,  Judge  Jonathan  Haralson,  of 
Selma,  asked:  "Do  you  know  Frost?"    He  was  one  of 


256  A   BOOK   OF   AIEMORIES. 

a  committee  to  find  a  pastor  for  his  church.  My  reply 
was :  "Judge,  I  remember  him  as  a  consecrated,  hard- 
working student  who  stuck  to  his  job."  It  was  all 
I  could  say,  for  we  had  never  been  intimate  and  not 
a  line  had  passed  betwten  us  through  the  years.  "  'Con- 
secrated, studious  and  sticking  to  his  job;'  that  sounds 
good,"  said  the  Judge.  Back  on  my  farm,  that  night, 
at  the  request  of  the  committee,  I  wrote  him  a  letter 
at  Staunton,  Virginia,  which  was  his  first  intimation 
of  a  call  to  Alabama.  He  soon  became  pastor  of  one 
of  the  best  churches  in  the  South.  In  the  same  Coun- 
ty, Association  and  Convention,  often  in  each  others* 
homes,  we  became  intimate  friends.  In  a  little  while, 
we  had  the  privilege  of  having  our  Brother  Davidson 
near  us  at  Marion.  We  three  were  members  of  the 
State  Mission  Board. 

The  characteristics  of  Frost,  the  boy,  followed  him 
his  life  through.  That  dogged  determination  to  know, 
that  caused  him  to  detain  the  class  after  recitation ; 
that  "consecrated,  student  habit  and  being  on  the 
job,"  which  commended  him  to  Judge  Haralson,  were 
his  armor  in  the  conflicts  into  which  he  was  plunged, 
which  culminated  in  the  organization  of  the  Sunday 
School  Board.  No  prophet  of  old,  with  whom  God 
spoke  face  to  face,  was  surer  of  his  vision  than  was 
this  young  man  when  he  had  thought  and  prayed  it 
through. 

The  American  Baptist  Publication  Society  of  Phil- 
adelphia was  supplying  the  field  with  its  literature. 
Many  of  the  leading  men  of  the  South  were  on  its 
staff  of  writers.  Most  of  the  people  Avere  well  satis- 
fied with  the  service  the  Society  was  rendering.  But 
the  feeling  grew  that  we  of  the  South  should  have  our 
own  publications.  It  was  not  a  battle  of  giants,  but 
the  battle  of  a  stripling  against  the  giants.  His  best 
friend.  Dr.  Wm.  E.  Hatcher,  did  not  yield  to  the  young 
man's  plans  for  a  long  time. 


A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES.  257 

He  was  ridiculed,  some  called  him  crazy,  but  his 
good  nature,  his  arguments,  which  they  could  not  an- 
swer and  his  intense  conviction,  forced  the  respect  of 
all.  The  result  is  well  known.  A  simple  marble  slab 
is  all  that  he  needs  to  mark  his  resting  place  in  the 
cemetery. 

He  lives  in  what  he  accomplished  and  the  most 
costly  marl)le  would  seem  poor  beside  his  real  me- 
morial :  "The  great  Sunday  School  Building  and  the 
publications  of  the  Nashville  Board  and  the  streams 
of  benevolence  it  is  sending  out  into  the  treasuries  of 
all  the  other  Bozurds. 

Frost  was  a  great  preacher,  not  in  the  sense  of 
oratory,  but  give  him  time  and  he  never  failed  to 
preach  a  telling  sermon.  It  was  great  in  that  it  up- 
lifted the  hearer  and  uplifted  Christ  his  Savior.  How 
he  magnified  Grace  in  his  preaching  and  writing! 
How  fitting,  that  they  sung  at  his  funeral  at  Louis- 
ville :"Saved  by  Grace !"  A  strong  denominational- 
ist,  yet  he  Avas  gentle  and  tender  in  his  dealings  with 
denominational  differences.  He  was  a  strong 
preacher  and  a  popular  pastor ;  he  was  a  preacher  and 
a  business  man  combined ;  a  courtly  gentleman,  and 
a  companion  for  his  children  in  his  home.  We  will 
never  have  the  like  of  him  again — maybe  we  will 
never  need  one.  Not  a  man,  but  men,  dozens  of  them, 
we  will  need  to  fill  the  places  he  has  made. 

A  poor  tribute  this,  because  I  put  so  much  of  my- 
self in  it,  but  how  could  I  help  it?  Blessed  is  the  de- 
nomination that  can  produce  a  man  like  that !  His 
work  will  live  through  the  ages ! 

Dr.  E.  T.  Winkler,  a  great  preacher,  came  into  our 
midst,  to  Marion  from  Charleston,  South  Carolina. 
As  a  preacher,  as  a  representative  of  the  Howard,  or 
Judson,  or  as  editor  of  The  Alabama  Baptist,  he  was 
pre-eminently  our  greatest.  But  after  only  a  few 
years,  he  died.     Everybody  was   inquiring  the   same 


258  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

thing:  "Where  can  his  successor  be  found?"  By  all 
odds  Marion  was  the  most  important  place  in  the 
State.  Frost  spoke  to  me  about  an  old  schoolmate  of 
ours,  a  classmate  of  his, 

A.  C.  Davidson,  then  in  Indiana.  "Can  he  meas- 
ure up  to  that  place  and  fill  Winkler's  shoes?"  I 
asked.  It  had  been  years  since  I  had  seen  or 
heard  of  him.  After  discussing  the  matter,  we  got 
hold  of  the  committee  and  had  him  invited  and,  to 
our  great  delight,  he  was  called.  How  strange  it 
seemed,  that  after  years  of  separation  in  different 
States,  we  three  were  suddenly  brought  together  in 
a  triangle,  about  thirty  miles  apart,  members  of  the 
same  Association  and,  in  a  little  while,  all  members 
of  the  State  Mission  Board  at  Selma.  That  was  not 
an  accident.  God's  hand  was  surely  in  it,  as  will  be 
seen,  I  think,  by  anybody  at  all  devout. 

Davy,  came  from  Missouri,  reared  on  a  farm, 
as  most  great  preachers  were.  I  saw  him  first 
about  Christmas,  1867,  at  Georgetown  College, 
Kentucky.  He  had  been  there  since  the  beginning 
of  the  session.  We  became  members  of  the  Ciceronian 
Debating  Society.  Without  doubt,  he  was  the  most 
loved  man  in  the  school.  He  was  a  student,  as  he  con- 
tinues to  be.  I  have  a  sermon  which  I  sometimes 
preach.    I  introduce  it  about  thus : 

"When  I  was  Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board,  I 
was  often  called  upon  to  make  matches  between 
churches  and  preachers. 

"A  brother,  who  was  Chairman  of  a  pulpit  Com- 
mittee, wrote  me  to  know  the  style  of  a  certain 
preacher  asked  if  I  thought  he  would  suit  his  church. 
I  replied:  'His  style  can  be  best  described  by  this 
text :  "Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye,  my  people,  saith  the 
Lord."  That  is  the  text  of  my  sermon  and  my  old 
friend  "Davy"  is  the  preacher  whose  "style"  was 
asked  about.    Who  that  has  ever  heard  him  can  ever 


A   BOOK    OF   MEMORIES.  259 


forget  the  words  of  comfort  that  fell  from  his  lips? 
When  one  has  gone  through  the  deep  waters,  he  will 
never  iind  it  in  his  heart  to  criticise  his  style,  but 
his  poor  soul  will  often  crave  to  hear  him  again.  I 
know  him  as  few  know  him — I  was  in  his  home  for 
a  time — what  a  husband,  what  a  father,  what  a  host 
was  he.  Filling  the  place  of  the  great  man  who  had 
preceeded  him  and  more  than  filling  it,  was  the  ver- 
dict of  all.  For  years  he  was  almost  idolized  by 
everybody  in  the  town,  the  Howard  and  Judson  and 
throughout  the  State.  Nobody  ever  told  me  who 
were  the  ringleaders  on  the  Mission  Board,  in  pull- 
ing me  away  from  the  farm  and  making  me  a  Secre- 
tary, but  I  suspect  Davy  and  Frost  had  a  good  strong 
hand  in  it.    This  is  about  the  best  place  to  say 

A  word  about  my  becoming  Secretary.  In  the  fall 
of  the  year,  I  had  secured  the  services  of  one  whom  I 
might  trust,  to  take  charge  of  my  farm.  I  was  very 
happy  over  the  arrangement.  Summoned  to  Selma  to 
the  Board  meeting,  I,  like  all  the  others,  went  wonder- 
ing, whom  we  could  get.  When  the  Board  was  in  ses- 
sion and  I  was  asked  to  retire,  a  flash  of  lightning,  out 
of  the  clear  sky,  would  not  have  surprised  me  more. 
When  informed  of  my  election  and  an  answer  was  de- 
manded, I  had  to  acknowledge  the  fortunate  ar- 
arrangement  I  had  just  completed  about  my  business. 
It  looked  like  it  was  a  call  from  God.  With  many  mis- 
givings about  my  ability  to  man  the  job,  I  accepted, 
and  the  rest  is  known.  It  was  easy  to  accept,  when 
I  knew  Davy  was  to  be  my  pastor  in  Marion,  where 
the  Mission  Board's  headquarters  were,  and  I  would 
see  Frost  every  few  day  in  Selma. 

With  a  Board  composed  of  as  fine  men  as  could 
be  found  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  I  couldn't  fail 
to  learn  and  make  the  work  go.  The  memory  of 
these  noble  men,  almost  every  one  of  them 
across    the    river    now,    fills    my    heart    with    grat- 


260  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

itude  to  God  for  the  companioship  of  such  a  body  of 
his  servants,  given  me  just  when  I  needed  them  most. 
But  my  own  best  friends  went  away;  Frost  to 
Richmond  in  the  pastorate,  later  to  lead  the 
forces  in  bringing  to  pass  the  establishment  of 
the  Sunday  School  Board  of  which  he  became  the  Sec- 
retary. My  friend  Davy,  was  called  away  to  a  great 
church  in  Covington,  Ky.,  a  little  later  to  the  Presi- 
dency of  Georgetown  and,  later  still,  to  South  Side, 
Birmingham.  Now  he  is  pastor  of  Livingston  and 
Eutaw.  It  is  probable  he  will  serve  these  good  people 
until  the  Master  shall  call  him  home.  He  is  growing 
old  gracefully,  the  brotherhood  delight  to  honor  him. 
At  all  the  Preachers'  meetings,  he  it  is  who  serves  as 
Dean  and  nobody  else  is  ever  thought  of  for  the 
place. 

CHAPTER  3. 

E.  B.  Teague  was  pastor  at  Selma,  when  I  came 
to  Dallas  County,  he  was  an  inspiration  to  me.  He 
had  risen  by  dint  of  hard  study,  from  the  plow  handles 
to  be  one  of  our  greatest  men.  His  delivery  was  pe- 
culiar, he'd  sometimes  grow  excited  and  gesticu- 
late in  a  manner  never  suggested  in  any  book  on 
elocution ;  but  all  the  same,  when  he  spoke,  he  was 
listened  to.  He  had  taught  school  much  in  his  early 
life.  He  was  an  unflinching  Baptist,  but  extremely 
modest  and  gentle.     He  seldom  antagonized  anyone. 

At  one  of  my  churches,  I  had  him  on  the  programme 
for  some  denominaitonal  subject.  The  programme 
was  printed  in  the  paper.  A  Baptist  brother  asked 
me:  "When  is  the  Sectarian  question  coming  off?  I 
don't  want  to  be  there  then."  He  was  referring  to 
Dr.  Teague's  topic.  I  told  Dr.  Teague  of  the  remark, 
and  spoke  about  the  tenderfoots  I  had  in  the  church 


I  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  261 

and  how,  for  that  very  reason,  I'd  put  that  subject  on, 
and  put  it  in  his  hands. 

To  my  amazement,  the  man  whom  I  had 
picked  as  the  most  cahn  and  self-possessed,  to 
show  up  the  Baptist  side,  was  rattled  from  the  start, 
and  apologized  all  the  way  through.  Afterwards,  he 
said :  "Well,  you  are  a  candid,  outspoken  man.  I  want 
you  to  speak  right  out  and  say  what  you  think."  My 
answer  was :  *T  think  you  apologized  too  much.  "Ex- 
actly what  I  felt,  before  I  had  spoken  ten  minutes," 
he  said.  "I  can't  understand  it,  that  is  not  my  way — 
fact  is,  guess  I  was  rattled  from  hearing  you  tell 
about  the  soft-shelled  Baptists  you  have  in  your 
church." 

"Get  you  a  patch  while  you  are  young,  so  you  can 
have  a  home  to  fall  back  on  when  you  are  old.  I  own 
my  father's  old  home,  and  expect,  when  the 
churches  lay  me  on  the  shelf,  to  retire  there 
and  end  my  days."  This  was  his  uniform  advice  to 
young  preachers.  Sure  enough,  he  carried  out  his 
purpose  and  ended  his  days  on  his  "patch,"  or  near 
there.  In  another  place  I  give  advice  to  the  young 
preachers  different  from  that  of  this  wise  man.  In 
"Howard  College  Fifty  years  Ago,"  I  speak  of  the 
part  that  Dr.  Teague  played  in  the  removal  of  the 
College  and  how  it  grieved  him  to  do  so.  His  friends 
were  glad  that  he  lived  to  see  the  trouble  passed 
and  the  denomination  reconciled  to  the  removal. 

Time  and  again  I  heard  of  Reminiscences  he  had 
prepared  which  contained  much  valuable  history  of 
Baptist  affairs.  When  we  think  of  a  man  like  Teague, 
so  versatile,  so  entertaining,  who  knew  so  much  of 
history  and  yet  not  a  line  of  his  reminiscences  have 
been  printed,  it  is  discouraging  for  any  one  to  write. 
The  loss  of  his  Manuscript,  if  he  left  one,  was  a  ca- 
lamity. 


262  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Samuel  Henderson:  I  had  only  a  Convention  ac- 
quaintance with  him.  Several  , times  I  heard  him 
preach  and  speak  and  was  charmed  with  his  ease  in 
handling  himself,  and  his  fluent,  easy  delivery,  grow- 
ing eloquent  at  times.  He  was  not  at  all  handsome, 
but  he  was  an  entertaining  speaker. 

No  one  wielded  a  more  graceful  pen  than  Sam  Hen- 
derson. "Sam,"  as  he  was  familiarly  called,  loved 
editorial  work  and  gave  the  Baptists  a  fine  paper  so 
long  as  the  Southwestern  Baptist  continued.  When 
he  became  the  editor  of  the  Alabama  Department  of 
The  Christian  Index,  of  Atlanta,  Georgia,  some  ac- 
cused him  of  standing  in  the  way  of  a  new  paper  in 
Alabama,  for  fear  of  his  losing  his  job  with  the  Index. 
In  the  great  dissension  that  came  near  dividing  the 
denomination,  he  was  what  they  called  a  conserva- 
tive writer,  of  the  Howell  wing,  while  Renfroe,  his 
neighbor,  went  with  the  Graves  faction. 

He  lived  to  be  an  old  man,  leaving  behind  a  host 
of  friends.  He  had  a  brother  and  son,  who  were 
preachers. 

Major  John  G.  Harris,  or  if  you  please,  "Gid"  Har- 
ris, as  he  was  familiarly  known,  was  a  noble  soul, 
whom/God  raised  up  at  a  period  when  he  was  needed. 
He  purchased  The  Alabama  Baptist,  and  moved  it  to 
Montgomery.  Visiting  the  Associations  in  the  in- 
terest of  his  paper,  he  became  widely  known  among 
the  Baptists.  He  stood  high  among  the  Masons  also. 
At  one  time  he  was  elected  elector  on  the  Cleveland 
ticket,  and  afterwards  held  office  in  Montgomery  un- 
der the  Federal  Administration.  Later  he  was  su- 
perintendent of  Education  of  Alabama.  Through  all 
these  means  he  became  one  of  the  best  known  men  in 
Alabama.  He  had  a  commanding  presence,  and  would 
attract  attention  in  any  crowd.  He  loved  to  be  out 
among  the  brethren,  and  especially  fond  of  speaking. 
The  first  time  I  saw  him  was  at  the  Bigbee  Associa- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  263 

tion,  where  he  made  probably  the  first  speech  looking 
to  the  inauguration  of  a  plan  for  the  comfort  of 
Aged  Ministers. 

Before  the  Convention,  he  advocated  the  move- 
ment and  it  was  started.  Not  much  was  done  for  this 
object  for  some  years,  but  he  was  the  starter  in  Ala- 
bama, and  now  all  the  States  throughout  the  South- 
ern Baptist  Convention  have  combined  and  enlarged 
the  work,  creating  a  Board.  He  was  not  a  preacher, 
but  he  was  frequently  appointed  at  the  Association 
to  preach.  He  was  open  hearted  and  cheerful,  and 
was  loved  wherever  known.  As  owner  of  The  Ala- 
bama Baptist,  he  was  conservative,  some  thought 
too  much  so,  but  he  made  the  paper  serve  the  denomi- 
nation to  good  purpose  at  a  critical  period  of  its  his- 
tory. 

George  E.  Brewer,  or  "Gentleman  George,"  as  I 
feel  to  call  him,  whenever  his  name  comes  into  my 
mind.  Always  well  dressed,  in  a  good  humor  and  po- 
lite, he  is  marked  instantly  as  a  perfect  gentleman.  At 
the  age  of  eighty-eight,  he  still  lives,  in  Columbus, 
Georgia.  In  his  early  life,  he  was  somewhat  in  poli- 
tics, sent  to  the  Legislature  on  several  occasions.  He 
has  been  a  preacher  nearly  sixty  years.  Was  Captain 
in  the  Confederate  Army,  and  I  have  been  told  he 
was  one  of  the  bravest.  A  Baptist,  a  Preacher,  a 
brave  Soldier,  and  a  perfect  Gentleman:  This  is  a 
combination  hard  to  beat.  Brother  George  is  amiable 
too.  I  have  seen  him  tried,  but  never  once  did  he  for- 
get himself.  He  honestly  beUeves  feet-washing  an 
ordinance  of  the  church,  but  he  is  a  Missionary — a 
combination  I  have  never  found  in  any  other  man.  In 
my  rough  way,  sometimes  I  have  rather  thrown  off 
on  the  foot-washers.  Brother  George  wrote  me  once : 
"I  wish  you  wouldn't  do  that.  I  love  you.  I  believe 
in  the  work  you  are  doing,  and  you  know  I  am  a 
Missionary,   but   you   sometimes    hurt    me     in   your 


264  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

speeches  by  your  slurs  on  feet-washers."  I  apologized, 
of  course,  for  I  was  wrong — that  is  no  way  to  win 
people,  but  to  drive  them  from  you.  Then  I  wrote 
proposing  we  have  a  little  friendly  controversy  in  the 
Alabama  Baptist  on  the  subject,  but  he  declined,  as  he 
was  averse  to  controversy.  Brother  Brewer  has  done 
a  world  of  good  carrying  sunshine  into  the  hearts  of 
the  people  in  their  homes. 

George  B.  Eager  is  another  ''Gentleman  George" 
who  still  lives  of  whom  I  must  say  a  word.  He  is  a 
native  of  Mississippi,  but  has  figured  much  in  Ala- 
bama. Here  in  Montgomery,  I  began  to  know  him 
best,  when  he  was  pastor  of  the  First  Church  and 
the  President  of  the  Mission  Board.  That  was  the 
day  when  every  fellow  was  fighting  liquor  "over 
against  his  own  house."  We  had  no  organization  at 
all.  As  pastor  of  the  First  Church,  he  gave  some  time 
to  the  discussion  of  questions  of  the  day.  More  Leg- 
islators, on  that  account,  attended  his  church  than 
any  other  in  the  city.  He  went  before  the  committees 
and  sought  to  influence  legislation.  A  Senator,  a  bully, 
attempted  to  bulldoze  the  frail  preacher  at  the  Cap- 
itol, but  to  his  utter  surprise,  the  preacher  defied  him 
and  the  Senator  quailed.  As  President  of  the  Mission 
Board,  he  was  true  and  always  aggressive,  ever  ready 
to  help  with  pen  or  voice  when  he  could. 

I  was  asked  what  I  thought  of  him  as  a  suitable  man 
for  a  chair  in  the  Seminary.  My  reply  was  'T  am 
no  judge  of  scholarship,  but  I  feel  sure  he  is  capable 
and  I  know  him  to  be  a  perfect  Gentleman,  the  sort 
of  man  for  young  preachers  to  come  in  contact  with." 

J,  M.  Fortune  was  pastor  of  numbers  of  good  coun- 
try churches  in  Dallas  and  Lowndes.  Brother  B.  H. 
Crumpton  was  largely  responsible  for  his  entering  the 
ministry,  and  as  teacher  and  sympathetic  friend,  he  en- 
couraged and  helped  him  much.  He  became  a  farmer- 
preacher,  who  served  the  kingdom  largely  at  his  own 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  265 

expense.  He  was  ambitious  to  own  a  farm,  which 
he  finally  did — and  more  than  a  farm — a  plantation, 
which  stood  in  the  way  of  his  largest  usefulness.  I 
do  not  call  to  mind  his  family  except  one  daughter, 
who  was  a  very  fine,  good  woman. 

J.  J.  D.  Refroe  was  a  loyal  son  of  Alabama  and 
gloried  in  it.  He  was  born  in  very  humble  circum- 
stances ;  I  think  he  told  me  six  weeks,  would  cover 
the  period  of  his  school  days.  But  he  had  a  great  mind 
and  a  heart  that  could  be  stirred  and  ambition  that 
could  be  aroused.  In  spite  of  his  slim  chances  he  per- 
severed and  became  one  of  Alabama's  greatest  preach- 
ers. He  had  mastered  Alexander  Carson's  works  and 
was  able  to  cope  with  the  most  wily  foe  that  might  at- 
tack the  doctrine  of  the  Baptists.  In  those  days,  there 
were  plenty  of  men  who  loved  controversy  and  were 
hunting  for  a  fighter.  Renfroe  sought  no  controversy, 
but  he  was  perfectly  at  home  on  controverted  ques- 
tions. J.  R.  Graves  was  one  of  the  most  noted  con- 
troversialists among  the  Baptists.  He  came  to  be 
known  as  the  great  leader  among  what  was  called 
the  Land-Mark  Baptists,  indeed,  I  believe  he  invented 
the  name.  Renfroe,  for  the  most  of  his  life,  was  an  in- 
tense Graves  adherent,  but  in  his  later  years,  he  soften- 
ed much  and  really  opposed  the  most  extreme  views  of 
Graves.  He  was  a  strong  doctrinal  preacher,  toward 
the  end  of  his  days,  he  said  to  me :  "I  believe  in 
sprinkling.  I  sprinkle  the  doctrines  all  through  my 
sermons."  This  he  found  to  accomplish  more  than 
set  sermons  on  announced  subjects,  and  I  am  sure  that 
is  the  better  way. 

Most  colleges  have  sad  stories  of  struggles  with 
poverty,  to  recite.  How  eagerly  they  seize  onto  all 
sorts  of  schemes  to  better  their  condition  financially ! 
The  history  of  Howard's  schemes  would  make  a  book. 
It's  worst  was  in  1876,  the  Centennial  year,  observ- 
ed by  the  Baptism  of  the  nation.    The  plan  was  to  se- 


266  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

cure  one  dollar  from  every  Baptist  in  the 
State.  Renfroe  was  made  the  agent.  He  had 
raised  money  for  church  buildings  and  the  like, 
but  this  was  his  first  experience  with  a  general  prop- 
osition. At  that  time  we  had  about  90,000  Baptists 
in  the  State.  It  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world 
to  figure  out  an  endowment.  Some,  of  course, 
would  not  give  the  dollar,  but  very  many  would  give 
by  the  hundreds,  and  this  would  far  more  than  make 
up  the  deficiencies. 

Doctor  Renfroe  came  to  my  old  country  field. 
Think  of  starting  out  on  a  mission  like  this  on  horse- 
back !  That  is  just  what  we  did,  I  rigged  up  two  sad- 
dle horses  and  away  we  rode.  At  one  of  my  churches 
we  did  fairly  well.  At  another  I  expected  to  get  at 
least  five  hundred  dollars  from  one  man.  Renfroe 
was  at  his  best.  I  never  heard  a  better  address.  The 
strong  points  of  the  Revolutionary  Fathers  were 
brought  out  and  stirred  the  patriotism  of  every  man. 
Then  our  religious  fervor  was  aroused,  when  the 
part  the  Baptists  took  in  the  struggle  for  religious 
liberty  was  shown.  My,  how  our  hearts  swelled 
within  us !  When  the  preacher  reached  the  practical 
point,  that  the  Baptists  everywhere,  north  and  south, 
were  celebrating  this  Centennial  year  by  each  member 
giving  one  dollar  for  the  endowment  of  our  colleges, 
I  felt  like  we  would  all  give  and  give  until  it  hurt. 
I  was  proud  of  what  my  old  church  was  going  to  do 
under  the  inspiration  of  this  great  address.  Of  course, 
he  was  careful  to  make  it  plain  that  some  were  ex- 
pected to  give  larger  sums  than  one  dollar. 

My  rich  man  was  the  first  to  respond.  He  eulo- 
gized the  speaker  and  said  he  was  proud  to  be  an 
American,  especially  proud  that  he  was  a  Baptist,  and 
thanked  God  for  putting  it  into  the  hearts  of  our 
leaders  to  inaugurate  this  movement,  which  was  des- 
tined to  richly  endow  all  of  our  colleges  and  put  them 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  267 

beyond  want.  He  closed  with  this :  "Brother  Pastor, 
I  have  a  wife  and  seven  children  and  three  grand- 
children— these  are  not  all  meml)ers  of  the  church — 
but  I  am  going  to  give  one  dollar  for  each  of  them 
just  the  same ;  put  me  down  for  twelve  dollars."  Poor 
Renfroe,  and  poor  pastor !  We  were  whipped.  We 
were  almost  speechless. 

A  few  experiences  like  this  opened  our  eyes  to  the 
fact  that  we  had  embarked  upon  a  most  foolish  un- 
dertaking. Its  narrowness  was  the  ruin  of  it.  A  pair 
of  lunatics  in  any  asylum,  ought  to  have  known  better ; 
yet,  the  thing  originated  North,  where  it  was  sup- 
poed  the  financial  brains  of  the  denomination  were  to 
be  found. 

The  Agent  didn't  collect  his  salary  and  traveling 
expenses.  Of  course  he  was  disappointed,  but  no 
other  man  could  have  done  any  better.  He  never  re- 
covered from  it,  and  died  at  last,  almost  broken-heart- 
ed over  the  college. 

Nobody  wielded  a  more  vigorous  pen.  The  charm 
of  it  was,  he  wrote  like  plain,  common-sense  people 
talk,  and  they  loved  to  read  after  him.  On  this  ac- 
count, Major  John  G.  Harris  brought  him  to  Mont- 
gomery to  edit  The  Alabama  Baptist.  Renfroe  had 
been  rather  ambitious  for  a  place  where  he  could 
write,  and  the  offer  was  accepted  because  he  believed 
the  work  would  be  congenial  and  entertaining. 

After  a  few  issues  of  the  paper,  however,  the  South 
Side  Church  in  Birmingham  called  him  as  pastor,  and 
he  went  there. 

He  was  heartily  in  sympathy  with  the  movement  to 
locate  Howard  College  in  Birmingham.  Nothing  but 
the  noblest  patriotism  to  North  Alabama  and  loyalty 
to  the  best  interests  of  the  denomination  animated 
him.  When  it  looked  like  Birmingham  was  going 
back  on  her  promises,  he  was  sick  at  heart.  Doctor 
B.  F.   Riley,   in  his   History  of  the   Baptists   of  Ala- 


268  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

bama,  says  on  page  421,  of  an  effort  to  rally  the  Bap- 
tists of  Birmingham,  at  the  First  Church:  "Doctor 
Renfroe  was  present  at  the  meeting.  It  was  his  last 
appearance  before  the  public.  Enfeebled  by  disease, 
he  arose  to  speak,  and  began  by  appealing  to  the  honor 
of  the  people,  but  he  soon  reeled  and  had  to  be  taken 
from  the  platform."  His  last  public  utterance  was 
made  in  behalf  of  the  institution  which  he  had  loved 
and  cordially  supported  even  unto  death.  Thus  died 
a  brave  leader,  who  loved  the  college,  though  he  per- 
sonally knew  nothing  of  college  training.  Disap- 
pointed then,  could  he  look  down  now  and  see  our 
great  college !  Ah,  he  knows  of  it.  On  the  campus 
they  have  erected  his  memorial:  RENFROE  HALL, 
which  is  far  better  than  a  cold  marble  shaft  in  a 
neglected  cemetery. 

At  Talladega,,  a  charming  little  city  in  a  fertile 
valley,  Renfroe  did  his  best  work  and  spent  his  hap- 
piest days. 

CHAPTER  4. 

A.  P.  Montague.  He  found  Howard  College  in  the 
dust  and  lifted  it  out.  They  called  him  a  gusher,  but 
the  people  needed  one  of  his  sort,  just  then  and  they 
rallied  to  him. 

I  can  write  nothing  better  of  him  and  his  noble 
wife  than  is  found  in  these  words  in  an  address  at  the 
presentation  of  Montague  Hall : 

*T  believe  a  better  day  has  dawned  upon  our  col- 
lege now.  We  are  not  out  of  the  woods  yet,  but  w^e 
seem  to  see  the  light  in  the  clearing.  God  gave  us  a 
great  man  in  Doctor  Montague,  a  man  with  a  vision, 
a  man  of  great  enthusiasm  and  one  who  has  the 
power  to  impart  his  enthusiasm  to  others." 

"He  saw  at  once  we  needed  a  dormitory.  He  heard 
the  complaint  from  South  Alabama  that  the  Birming- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  269 

ham  district  had  never  carried  out  its  promise.  He 
determined  that  Birmingham  should  have  the  op- 
portunity to  wipe  out  that  reproach.  He  appealed 
to  them  to  give  the  money  to  erect  that  splendid 
structure,  Renfroe  Hall,  at  a  cost  of  nearly  $20,000. 
He  literally  walked  that  money  down  in  this  district, 
tramping  the  streets  of  Birmingham  and  the  sur- 
rounding towns,  and  came  near  walking  himself  into 
his  grave.  For  six  long  weeks  he  lay  helpless  in  the 
Davis  Infirmary,  but  he  succeeded,  and  there  stands 
his  monument,  if  he  never  has  another. 

"Then  he  conceived  the  idea  of  erecting  this  beau- 
tiful library  building,  which  I  have  the  privilege  of 
presenting  this  day.  In  an  incredibly  short  time,  the 
money  was  secured  and  the  building  completed.  I  have 
never  known  anything  so  quickly  and  easily  done. 

"With  a  courage  and  enthusiasm  I  have  never  seen 
equaled,  he  threw  himself  into  the  effort  to  raise 
$75,000  in  bonds  for  the  endowment.  He  had  until 
the  last  day  of  next  December  in  which  to  complete 
it,  but  by  the  first  of  May,  seven  months  ahead  of 
time,  it  was  practically  accomplished. 

*Tn  all  this  heroic  work,  a  Httle  woman  who  gave 
her  heart  to  him  in  old  Virginia,  years  ago,  was  his 
inspiration.  She  it  was,  who  cheered  him  when  he 
was  inclined  to  be  discouraged.  She  saw  Renfroe 
Hall  completed  and  occupied.  She  saw  this  building 
completed,  and  she  rejoiced  with  him  when  the 
grander  work  of  securing  the  bonds  was  completed. 
What  more  fitting  tribute  to  her  worth  than  that  this 
building  should  be  her  memorial :  W^e  would  thus  per- 
petuate in  enduring  form  the  memory  of  one  of  the 
loveliest  characters  that   ever  lived  in  Alabama." 

William  A.  Parker,  was  the  son  of  a  preacher,  Wm. 
Jacob  Parker.  He  had  a  bright  mind  and  very  good 
opportunities  for  an  education,  though  I  think  he  did 


270  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

not  attend  College.  He  was  a  strong-  preacher,  serv- 
ing the  best  churches  in  reach  of  him  in  Clark  and 
Marengo  counties.  His  genial  disposition  made  him 
quite  popular  with  all  classes.  Having  a  large  family 
he  was  compelled  to  engage  in  secular  employments 
which  hindered  his  greatest  usefulness.  He  had  a 
brother,  George,  who  was  a  preacher  and  several  of 
his  sons  entered  the  ministry.  Nothing  pleased  Par- 
ker more  than  to  have  the  Secretary,  or  any  of  the 
preachers  to  visit  his  home  and  go  miles  away  in  his 
conveyance  to  his  appointments.  Some  years  before 
his  death  he  moved  to  Texas  where  his  preaching  ca- 
reer closed. 

W.  F.  Yarborough  must  have  mention  in  these 
Memories,  though  he  still  lives  and  is  now  in  the  prime 
of  his  life.  In  1915  when  I  was  made  Secretary  Eme- 
ritus by  the  Convention,  the  Executive  Board  called 
him  from  one  of  the  finest  pastorates  in  the  State  to 
become  Corresponding  Secretary. 

A  better  choice  could  not  have  been  made.  It  was 
a  call  from  a  comparative  easy  place  to  one  of  the  most 
laborious,  self-denying  in  the  State.  No  one  knows 
how  dear  his  home  ties  are,  until  he  assumes  a  posi- 
tion that  calls  him  from  his  home  and  dear  ones.  Just 
how  laborious  and  exacting  are  the  duties,  none  but 
the  initiated  know.  After  four  years  of  arduous  labor 
he  goes  back  to  his  native  State  of  Mississippi  to  take 
up  the  loved  work  of  the  pastorate  in  one  of  the  best 
churches  in  the  State.  I  can  bear  witness  to  his  faith- 
fulness and  industry. 

When  he  came  to  the  Secretary's  office  the  whole 
policy  was  changed  by  the  Convention,  by  consolidat- 
ing the  work.  Thus  it  was  made  more  difficult  and 
complex.  But  the  Secretary  measured  well  up  to  the 
responsibilities  of  the  new  order.  The  75  million  cam- 
paign, he  managed  with  consumate  skill  and  bore  the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  271 

multiplied  and  perplexing  burdens  of  mind  and  body 
in  a  most  satisfactory  way.  The  Lord  certainly  mar- 
velously  sustained  him  and  enabled  him  to  score  a 
great  victory.  Alabama  Baptists  will  never  cease  to 
love  him  for  the  service  he  rendered  at  a  critical  pe- 
riod in  their  history. 

His  good  wife  deserves  grateful  mention,  for  with- 
out her  uncomplaining  devotion,  her  husband  could  not 
have  done  the  work.  A  noble  woman,  religiously  rear- 
ed she  was  well  fitted  to  the  task  of  staying  by  the  stufif 
while  the  head  of  the  family  gave  himself  unremitting- 
ly to  the  word  into  which  he  had  been  thrust. 

J.  H.  Curry.  When  I  first  knew  him,  he  had  been 
pastor  at  North  Port  and  at  other  prominent  points 
in  West  Alabama.  He  was  a  handsome  fellow,  a  good 
preacher,  a  wise  leader  with  a  cheerful  spirit,  who 
easily  won  his  way  into  the  hearts  of  his  people.  The 
Lord  didn't  give  him  a  preacher  son,  but  a  lawyer- 
son,  M.  B.  Curry,  has  consecrated  his  business  sense 
and  influence  to  religious  work  in  his  church  and  As- 
sociation. He  has  been  Moderator  of  his  Association 
for  years ;  also  a  valuable  member  of  the  Mission 
Board,  besides  he  had  served  well  his  county  in  the 
Legislature,  standing  four  square  on  every  moral 
question. 

Doctor  D.  O.  Baird,  in  the  same  territory  with  Bro- 
ther Curry.  I  went  to  his  Association,  and  Secretary 
like — inquired  about  the  appointee  for  the  Mission- 
ary Sermon,  wishing  it  might  in  some  way  fall  to  my 
lot  to  preach  it.  I  was  well  pleased  when  I  found 
Brother  Baird  was  to  do  the  job,  I  had  heard  much 
about  him,  and  I  wanted  to  hear  him.  I  was  disap- 
pointed when  he  read  Ezekiel's  vision  of  the  valley  of 
dry  bones,  and  announced  his  text :  "Son  of  man,  can 
these  bones  live?"  I  resigned  myself  to  the  idea, 
I'd  have  a  dry  old  time,  listening  to  a  sermon  on  the 


272  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

fulfillment  of  prophesy,  which  the  preacher  knew  noth- 
ing about.  He  hadn't  spoken  half  a  dozen  sentences, 
before  I  saw  he  had  selected  one  of  the  finest  texts 
in  the  Book  for  a  Missionary  Sermon,  and  that  a  mas- 
ter had  hold  of  the  subject.  He  painted  before  us  the 
hopeless  condition  of  Israel.  By  reason  of  sin,  they 
had  dried  up,  and  were  on  the  valley  of  dry  bones.  I 
am  writing  this  on  May  1,  1920.  I  will  ask  the  reader 
to  turn  to  Ezekiel  36  and  37  chapters  and  read.  Then 
think  about  it :  To-day,  Jerusalem  and  all  Palestine  is 
in  the  hands  of  the  British — a  Christian  nation.  The 
"unspeakable"  Turk,  who  has  trodden  the  sacred  soil 
under  foot  for  centuries,  has  been  put  out.  Doesn't 
it  look  like  God  is  getting  ready  to  resurrect  the  Dry 
Bones  and  re-establish  the  people  on  their  own  land? 

But  our  Brother  Baird  wasn't  preaching  about  that. 
I  am  only  calling  attention  to  the  striking  fact  and 
point  to  the  remarkable  prophesy  in  those  chapters. 

Who  knows  but  a  literal  fulfillment  is  about  to  oc- 
cur? 

The  preacher  was  calling  attention  to  the  prom- 
ise that  through  the  preaching  of  God's  word,  nations 
should  be  saved,  though  it  seemed  as  impossible  as 
the  resurrection  of  the  dry  bones.  While  he  was 
speaking,  I  called  to  my  mind  what  I  had  heard  about 
the  preacher. 

There  was  a  time  when  he  himself,  was  a  very  dry 
bone — the  power  of  drink  had  mastered  him.  Neigh- 
bors shook  their  heads  and  agreed  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  save  Dr.  Baird,  the  beloved  physician,  from 
the  habit  of  drink. 

The  poor  heart-broken  wife  maybe  cried:  "Oh 
God,  can  this  dry  bone  live?"  In  answer  to  prayer,  in 
fulfillment  of  His  promises — there  was  the  man,  once 
demon-possessed,  "clothed  and  in  his  right  mind," 
standing  before  a  great  audience  of  people  who  knew 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  273 

him  well ;  telling  them  of  the  great  power  of  God  to 
save  to  the  uttermost.  It  was  no  harder  for  God  to 
resurrect  the  dry  bones  of  the  valley  than  to  save 
this  one  man. 

How  my  heart  has  reveled  through  the  years,  over 
the  grand  truths  which  came  to  me  that  day!  Doc- 
tor Baird  has  been  in  heaven  for  some  years,  magni- 
fying that  amazing  grace  which  makes  alive  the  dry 
bones  which  sin  has  made. 

One  cannot  write  of  Pickens  County  without 
thinking  of  Uncle  Billy  Robertson,  long  time  Mode- 
rator of  the  Union  Association  and  for  fifty-four  years, 
Superintendent  of  his  Sunday  School.  At  the  Court 
House  he  holds  some  responsible  office,  which  his  con- 
stituents will  ask  him  to  keep  until  the  pen  drops  from 
his  hand.  Past  80,  he  is  still  active  and  faithful.  The 
Lord  be  praised  for  a  life  like  that !  W.  T.  Robertson's 
memory  will  endure  forever. 

This  is  the  Association,  greatly  honored  in  Alabama 
Baptist  history.  Grant's  Creek  Church  for  long,  was  a 
leading  church  in  the  Association.  Two  notable  State 
Conventions  were  held  there,  five  years  apart.  In  my 
address  on :  "Howard  College  Fifty  Years  Ago,"  I 
speak  of  these  two  Conventions. 

Another  event  of  great  interest  was  the  going  out 
from  this  church,  as  the  first  woman  missionary  from 
the  South,  Miss  Martha  Foster,  Mrs.  Crawford.  The 
Fosters  were  a  noted  family  then,  as  they  are  today.  I 
got  it  from  somewhere,  that  Deacon  John  Foster  was 
heard  to  pray  God,  to  open  the  doors  into  foreign  lands 
and  to  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  his  servants  to  go  to 
the  foreign  field.  His  beautiful  daughter,  just  home, 
after  finishing  her  school  course,  told  her  father  of 
her  desire  to  go  as  a  missionary  and  asked  his  consent 
to  offer  herself  to  the  Foreign  Board.  The  father 
broke  down  and  wept,  whereupon  the  daughter  told 


274  A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

him  of  his  prayers  and  expressed  surprise.  The  fa- 
ther repHed :  "I  was  honest  in  that  prayer,  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  He  would  call  my  own  precious  child 
the  very  first  woman  to  go."  Whether  this  is  literally 
true  or  not,  I  doubt  not,  thoughts  of  this  kind  were  in 
the  minds  of  both  father  and  daughter. 

R.  A.  J.  Cumbie  was  a  brother  beloved.  No 
braver  soldier  entered  the  Confederate  Army. 
Though  an  officer,  in  every  camp,  he  held 
meetings,  which  often  resulted  in  great  revivals.  I 
have  seen  a  picture  of  a  baptismal  scene,  with  enemies 
bullets  dropping  into  the  water,  where  he  was  the  ad- 
ministrator— it  was  just  before  a  battle ;  he  and  the 
candidate  responding  to  the  bugle  call,  went  into  line 
of  battle  in  their  wet  clothes.  The  comradeship  of  of- 
ficers and  men,  had  no  finer  illustration  than  that.  He 
was  a  people's  man,  a  born  evangelist.  He  had  a  ten- 
der heart,  but  he  was  as  brave  as  a  lion.  Full  of  hu- 
mor, he  could  beat  anybody  telling  an  anecdote.  It 
is  little  wonder  that  he  went  into  politics  and  became 
Probate  Judge  of  Tallapoosa  County.  The  campaign 
was  one  of  the  livest  ever  known  in  the  County.  It 
was  like  going  to  a  circus,  the  boys  said,  when  com- 
ing from  a  speaking.  I  do  not  remember  the  appli- 
cation, but  one  anecdote  was  rich :  A  blacksmith  kept 
his  account  written  with  charcoal  on  the  nice,  white 
floor  under  his  wife's  bed.  While  he  was  away,  his 
wife  scoured  the  floor.  When  he  returned  and  found 
what  she  had  done,  he  said:  "Wife  you  have  scoured 
out  my  accounts,  I  am  ruined."  Of  course  the  wife 
was  much  troubled,  but  asked  if  he  couldn't  remember 
the  accounts  well  enough  to  rewrite  them.  He  adopt- 
ed her  suggestion,  got  a  piece  of  charcoal  and  crawl- 
ed under  the  bed ;  after  a  time  he  emerged  with  a 
pleased  look  on  his  face  and  informed  his  wife,  he  had 
it  now  on  lots  better  men  than  the  original. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  275 

He  was  pastor  at  Alexander  City  and  a  number  of 
important  places.  His  churches  always  flourished  and 
he  lined  them  up  with  the  best  missionary  churches 
of  the  State.  God  spared  him  to  be  80  years  old.  To 
the  day  of  his  death  he  loved  the  visits  of  his  breth- 
ren and  talked  freely  of  his  departure.  A  faithful  wife 
and  devoted  friends  ministered  to  him  beautifully  in 
his  last  illness. 

CHAPTER  5. 

John  R.  Caldwell,  a  preacher  and  a  saw-mill  man. 
When  the  fight  was  on  for  the  amendment  to  the  State 
Constitution,  he  said  to  me :  "Brother  Crumpton,  I 
will  be  glad  to  help  in  the  campaign  if  there  is  any- 
thing I  can  do."  Asked  what  he  could  do,  he  replied: 
"Let  me  give  you  a  story  I  could  tell. 

My  father  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  planter,  a  grad- 
uate of  the  College  in  Athens,  Ga.  My  mother  was  a  re- 
fined, educated  woman,  a  graduate  of  Eatonton.  They 
began  life  with  plenty  about  them.  My  father  took  to 
drink,  soon  after  they  married  and  things  went  from 
bad  to  worse  from  that  time.  He  would  sober  up,  then 
go  off  again  as  bad  as  ever.  One  year,  when  the  crop 
was  planted  and  everything  looked  good,  the  Sheriff 
came  and  took  eleven  negro  men  out  of  the  yard,  to 
pay  his  drink  bills.  Next  day,  my  father  went  to  town, 
sold  nine  of  the  men,  and  paid  off  all  executions.  But 
he  got  drunk  and  sold  Sam,  one  of  the  two  remaining, 
to  pay  a  liquor  bill  and  sent  George  the  only  man  left, 
home ;  but  father  remained.  I  remember  when 
the  Sheriff  came  and  took  down  the  old  family  clock 
and  how  mother  cried.  Liquor  had  brought  poverty 
and  ruin  into  our  home.  Do  you  remember  the  little 
tract  you  circulated:  "If  I  were  a  Fiend?"  If  you'd 
had  my  mother's  life  before  you,  you  could  not  have 
told  it  better.     You  would  think  a  bov  raised  in  cir- 


276  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

cumstances  like  that,  would  never  take  after  his  fa- 
ther, but  I  did — fact  is,  I  was  worse  than  my  father,  for 
I  added  fighting  to  my  drinking.  There  are  not  many 
square  inches  on  my  body  which  are  not  scarred  with 
knife  wounds,  received  in  drunken  brawls.  But  broth- 
er, it  pleased  the  dear  Lord  to  reach  down  His  strong 
arm  and  "snatch  me  as  a  brand  from  the  burning.  He 
put  a  new  song  into  my  mouth,  even  praises  to  my 
God."  He  has  blessed  my  poor  Hfe,  far  better  than  I 
could  have  expected.  What  would  I  have  been  but 
for  His  constraining  grace.  He  has  blessed  my  min- 
istry and  with  these  hands  I  have  baptized  two  thous- 
and converts."  He  told  me  too  that  his  father  was  fin- 
ally converted  and  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life  were 
happy  Christ-serving  years. 

This  was  the  story  this  old  hero  could  tell 
and  wherever  told  the  people  beHeved  it.  No 
man  could  treat  it  lightly.  The  argument  of 
a  man's  life  and  a  family  life,  could  not  be 
answered.  Men  had  only  to  look  around  them  and 
see  the  ruin  of  rum,  then  look  at  him  and  see  what 
God's  grace  and  prohibition  had  done.  The  liquor 
people  had  no  argument,  not  one.  The  home  was 
against  them,  pure  women  and  innocent  children  were 
against  them,  Christianity  was  against  them,  even 
dram-drinkers,  by  the  thousands,  were  against  them.  In 
every  man's  bosom  God  had  put  a  conscience,  where 
it  was  not  dead,  it  was  against  them — most  of  all, 
God  was  against  them.  They  couldn't  appeal  to  com- 
mon sense,  patriotism  or  religion.  Prejudice,  appetite 
and  falsehood  were  the  trinity  they  worshipped. 

Brother  Caldwell  now  past  80,  preaches  when  his 
strength  will  allow  and  the  people  hear  him  gladly. 

I.  T.  Tichenor,  a  native  of  Tennessee,  was  one  of  the 
great  men  who  figured  in  Alabama  in  my  early  minis- 
try. He  was  for  a  time  President  of  the  State  Col- 
lege at  Auburn,  later  as  Secretary  of  the  Home  Mis- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  211 

sion  Board.  In  his  early  ministry  he  was  pastor  of  the 
First  church,  Montgomery.  He  was  every  inch  a  great 
man,  in  heart,  brain,  in  spirit.  I  came  to  regard 
him  as  the  greatest  orator  I  ever  heard.  At  the  South- 
ern Baptist  and  the  Alabama  Conventions,  he  thrilled 
his  audiences  with  his  always  optimistic  speeches.  He 
was  a  seer,  the  great  things  coming  to  this  country, 
its  prosperity  and  glory,  and  the  marvelous  advance 
of  the  Baptists,  he  clearly  foresaw  and  pictured  them 
in  glorious  colors.  Could  a  passage  of  his  speech  be- 
fore the  Convention  at  Atlanta  be  reproduced  and  pub- 
lished, it  would  be  prized  as  an  oratorical  gem.  He 
pictured  an  iceberg,  breaking  loose  from  its  icy  fast- 
nesses in  the  far  North  and  drifting  Southward  in  its 
grandeur,  endangering  shipping  on  its  journey,  until 
the  tropical  sunshine  and  warming  currents,  gradual- 
ly melted  away  its  jagged  sides  and  brought  down  its 
towering  peaks  and  mingled  them  with  the  waters  of 
the  Southern  Seas.  I  wonder  sometimes  if  the  like  of 
Tichenor,  will  ever  be  seen  again. 

L.  O.  Dawson.  I  must  leave  a  word  about  a  few 
men  who  are  living,  though  for  most  part,  those  re- 
corded here,  have  entered  into  rest. 

In  the  thirty  yeras  Dawson  has  been  pastor 
in  Tuscaloosa,  he  has  seen  every  pulpit  in  Alabama 
emptied,  some  of  them  a  dozen  times.  From  every 
corner  of  the  South,  he  has  had  invitations  to  become 
pastor  at  important  points,  but  he  has  held  steadily 
to  his  job  at  Tuscaloosa,  and  it  now  looks  as  if  he  will 
finish  his  course  there ;  but  I  am  beginning  this  story 
at  the  wrong  end.  I  know  L.  O's  folks.  He  comes  of 
royal  blood — not  foreign,  but  the  best  America  has. 
The  best  education  a  boy  can  have  is  from  the  farm, 
this  he  had  at  an  early  age,  after  the  death  of  his  fa- 
ther, which  occurred  shortly  after  the  Civil  War,  when 
all  the  white  boys  had  to  go  to  work.  I  venture,  not 
one  went  at  it  more  cheerfully  than  he  did.     When  I 


278  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

moved  to  Marion  in  1885,  as  Secretary  of  the  Board,  I 
found  in  Howard  College,  two  bright  faced  preacher 
boys — L.  O.  Dawson  and  John  McCoUum,  they  were 
inseparable  chums.  They  seemed  to  take  a  liking  to 
me,  and  their  feeling  was  reciprocated.  They  were  in 
love  with  as  fine  girls  as  could  be  found  in  the  State, 
and  I  egged  them  on,  for  I  believe  in  young  people 
marrying,  where  the  mating  seems  suitable.  Dawson, 
after  finishing  in  the  Seminary,  tarried  in  Kentucky 
for  four  years  as  pastor  of  a  grand  country  church, 
then  came  to  Tuscaloosa,  and  there  he  has  stuck  for 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century.  Is  it  the  land,  or  the 
man,  that  makes  the  union  so  long?  In  making  the  es- 
timate, the  disposition,  the  preparation  and  religion 
of  the  preacher  and  the  qualities  of  the  wife  must 
enter  in.  This  all  being  A-1,  the  church  shows  itself 
first  class  in  every  particular  in  keeping  him  so  long. 
"If  any  of  you  members  love  to  change  preachers,  Vd 
advise  you  to  get  your  letters  for  I  have  come  to  stay." 
That  was  the  audacious  remark  in  his  first  sermon. 
After  that,  how  could  anybody  ever  think  of  a  change  ? 
The  result  is,  he  is  the  pastor  of  the  whole  town,  and  of 
the  Association.  He  is  in  every  movement,  even  dirty 
politics  gets  attention  from  him  in  a  clean  way.  The 
preacher,  who  never  sticks,  the  churches,  that  are  al- 
ways changing  pastors,  the  associations  and  towns  and 
preachers  that  can't  get  to  liking  one  another,  can  all 
study  Dawson  and  his  church  with  profit. 

The  army  of  young  people  who  have  felt  the  touch 
of  his  life,  will  through  the  ages  bless  God  for  the 
influence  of  this  man  of  God  upon  their  lives. 

How  easy  he  made  it  for  a  Secretary  in  his  church 
and  Association !  Cheerful  and  happy  in  all  his  work, 
how  could  he  fail?  In  a  letter  to  the  writer,  he  said: 
"My  life  has  just  been  one  long  happy  day's  work."  Ah 
Brother !  the  Lord  knows  it,  but  I'll  tell  him  too,  what 
you  and  your  good  wife  have  been  to  me,  as  I  toiled 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  279 

in  his  service  and  you  shall  some  day  hear  him  say: 
"In  as  much." 

D.  I.  Purser:  Came  from  Mississippi  to  Birming- 
ham to  hold  a  meeting,  his  yonger  brother,  John, 
leading  the  singing.  The  meeting  proving  successful, 
he  was  invited  to  Tuscaloosa.  Besides  a  great  meet- 
ing, in  which  souls  were  saved,  the  preacher  lost  his 
own  heart,  and  later  married  one  of  the  finest  women 
of  the  town,  Miss  Sallie  Moody.  Later,  he  became 
pastor  of  the  First  Church  of  Birmingham,  and  was 
mixed  up  with  all  the  progressive  affairs  of  the 
fast  growing  city.  Besides  a  preacher,  he  was  called 
a  booster,  a  promoter,  a  plunger.  I  hardly  know  the 
meaning  of  all  these  terms,  but  I  guess  he  was  all 
that  they  mean.  When  Birmingham  cast  her  covet- 
ous eyes  on  Howard  College  at  Marion,  Purser  be- 
came the  leader,  and  in  a  Httle  while  the  thing  was 
accomplished. 

We  are  making  much  of  preacher's  summer  schools. 
Let  it  be  remembered  that  Purser  first  introduced 
them  at  Howard  College. 

To  his  credit  too,  the  saving  of  the  College  after  the 
removal,  is  largely  due. 

So  I  write  Purser  down  as  a  remarkable  man.  His 
career  was  ended  in  New  Orleans,  where  he  was  a  vic- 
tim of  Yellow  Fever.  His  wife  still  survives,  and  his 
two  sons  give  promise  of  great  usefulness  in  the  min- 
istry. 

Five  Presidents  of  the  Judsom  Whom  I  Knew. 

L.  R.  Gwaltney,  a  Virginian,  came  to  the  Jud- 
son,  from  Rome,  Georgia.  He  was  the  first 
of  the  Presidents  with  whom  I  became  intimately  ac- 
quainted. He  was  an  elegant  gentleman  and  a  fine 
preacher.  I  found  out  later  that  he  was  an  unafraid 
prohibitionist,  by  the  great  speech  he  made  at  the  Troy 
Convention  and  the  fine  report  he  read  on  the  sub- 
ject the  year  following.     Luther  Rice  was  his  name, 


280  A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

so,  he  could  not  keep  from  being  a  great  missionary. 

Robert  Frazier  was  President  when  I  moved  to  Ma- 
rion as  the  Secretary.  He  was  a  Virginian,  an  accom- 
plished gentleman  and  scholar,  an  experienced  educa- 
tor. He  had  been  a  United  States  Consul  at  some 
city  in  Italy.  He  was  a  devout  Christian.  Having  no 
children  of  their  own,  he  and  his  wife,  became  father 
and  mother  to  the  girls,  who  loved  them  devotedly. 
After  five  years,  because  of  failing  health,  he  resigned 
and  returned  to  his  Virginia  home,  where  he  died  only 
a  year  or  so  ago.  His  death  was  a  distinct  loss  to  his 
denomination,  especially  to  the  Baptists  of  his  home 
State. 

Samuel  W.  Averitt.  I  became  very  intimate  with 
him.  For  ten  years  I  was  a  citizen  of  Marion  and  a 
Trustee  of  the  Judson.  Dr.  Averitt  was  a  grad- 
uate of  the  U.  S.  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis,  Md., 
an  officer  in  the  Navy,  until  his  State  seceded  from 
the  Union.  He  then  cast  his  lot  with  the  Confeder- 
acy in  the  naval  service.  He  was  second  in  command 
of  the  steamship  Florida,  one  of  the  noted  sea  rovers 
of  the  Confederate  Navy.  His  story  of  how  he  took 
her  out  of  Mobile  harbor,  a  dark,  rainy  night,  right 
by  the  blockading  vessels  of  the  U.  S.,  was  most  thrill- 
ing. He  was  so  modest,  he  seldom  spoke  of  his  ex- 
periences in  the  perilous  days.  He  could  have  left  a 
record  of  adventure  and  daring  deeds,  which  would 
have  classed  high  in  reading  that  thrills. 

When  he  laid  aside  the  habiliments  of  war,  he 
sought  the  quiet  fields  of  student  fife  and  became  a 
great  teacher  of  girls.  He  and  his  queenly  wife,  left  an 
enduring  impression  with  all  the  girls  who  were  fortu- 
nate enough  to  be  under  them.  Dr.  Averitt  had  in 
mind  great  plans  for  the  Judson,  but  was  stricken  be- 
fore their  accomplishment.  No  finer  specimen  of  a 
man  ever  lived  than  Sam  Averitt. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  281 

Robert  G.  Patrick  became  the  pastor  of  Siloam 
church  and  for  two  years  made  his  home  in  the  Jud- 
son.  Thus  he  became  thoroughly  imbued  with  the 
plans  of  the  President.  He  learned  the  inside  work- 
ing of  the  school  and  in  the  summer  made  some  trips 
in  its  interest.  When  the  beloved  President  died,  the 
Trustees  found  in  Patrick  a  worthy  successor.  Though 
young,  to  assume  such  a  responsiblity,  he  soon  ad- 
justed himself  to  the  new  situation  and  the  school  had 
under  him  a  marvelous  prosperity. 

Patrick  was  born  with  fun  in  his  laughing  eyes  and 
beaming,  happy  face.  Boiling  over  with  humor  all  the 
time,  it  was  often  hard  for  him  to  be  serious.  There 
were  no  dull  times  when  he  was  about.  He  is  the 
last  man  one  would  have  picked  to  die  early,  with 
something  like  melancholia.  Gradually  it  made  its 
stealty  appearance,  his  friends  were  loath  to  believe  it, 
but  in  a  few  years  it  brought  him  to  an  untimely 
grave. 

How  beautifully  God's  plans  dove-tail  into  each  oth- 
er: Gwaltney,  Frazier  and  Averitt,  all  Virginians, 
maybe  there  lives  inter-locked  somewhere,  each  in- 
fluencing the  other ;  then  Averitt  training  Patrick  a 
South  Carolinian;  Patrick  was  followed  in  the  pasto- 
rate of  old  Siloam  by 

Paul  V.  Bomar  his  friend  and  fellow-student  from 
South  Carolina.  Preaching  to  the  students  and  teach- 
ing a  few  hours  in  the  Judson  each  day,  he  becomes  fa- 
miliar with  all  the  workings  of  the  great  school,  the 
hearts  of  the  pupils  and  their  parents  entwine  them- 
selves around  him  and  makes  ready,  God's  man  for  the 
Presidency,  when  made  vacant  by  the  tragic  ending  of 
the  Patrick  Presidency.  Who  that  studies  the  history 
of  the  school  from  its  beginning,  can  not  see  the  hand 
of  God  guiding  its  afifairs  ?  Right  now  it  is  in  its  great- 
est prosperity.    The  denomination  is  going  to  endow  it 


282  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

and  give  it  new  buildings,  to  accommodate  the  gene- 
rations of  girls  coming  on. 

The  blessed  old  school !  How  it  has  blessed  the  world 
in  educating  great  women  in  all  the  South ! 

The  Ann  Hasaltine  Missionary  Society  of  the  Jud- 
son.  Named  for  the  greatest  Baptist  woman  that  ever 
lived,  influenced  girls  in  the  missionary  work; 
some  became  missonaries ;  others  carried  to  their 
homes  and  into  their  church  life,  an  interest  in  mis- 
sions, which  has  helped  them  to  hold  the  ropes  while 
others  went  down  into  the  mission  mines  to  give  their 
lives  in  rescuing  the  perishing. 

CHAPTER  6. 

S.  O.  Y.  Ray.  "Soy,"  the  boys  called  him,  a  country 
boy,  reared  on  the  farm. 

Not  a  thing,  from  dropping  corn  to  splitting  rails, 
that  he  did  not  learn  to  do.  The  result  w^as  that  he 
became  a  successful  farmer.  By  his  own  labor,  he  be- 
came possessed  of  a  four  hundred  acre  farm  and  it  was 
one  of  the  best  in  the  country. 

His  opportunities  for  education  were  not  the  best, 
but  he  was  an  apt  student,  taking  in,  not  only  what 
he  found  in  the  school  books,  but  what  he  saw  and 
heard.  He  knew  nothing  of  Sunday  Schools,  for  his 
parents  were  Hardshells  and  he  was  reared  to  believe 
that  Sunday  Schools,  lodges,  temperance  and  mission 
organizations  of  every  sort,  were  of  the  earth,  earthy: 
What  he  learned  about  the  Bible,  he  dug  out  after  he 
became  a  grown  man  and  felt  called  to  the  ministry. 
Baptized  by  a  Hardshell  and  hearing  only  their  preach- 
ing, he  was  equal  to  the  best  of  them  in  presenting  the 
"hard  doctrines"  for  which  they  were  noted. 

Having  a  good  voice,  he  used  it  to  its  full  capacity, 
we  may  well  imagine,  in  those  days  when  length  and 
loudness  decided  the  goodness  of  the  sermon.     Genial 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  283 

and  a  good  story  teller,  he  was  popular  in  every 
crowd. 

When  the  State  Mission  Board  of  Alabama  was  or- 
ganized, its  first  work  was  to  district  the  State 
and  send  out  strong  men  to  preach  and  organize  the 
Baptist  forces.  Missions,  Sunday  Schools  and  Minis- 
terial Education  were  the  great  themes  they  were  to 
put  emphasis  upon.  These  District  Evangelists  were  to 
answer  objections,  and,  take  collections  and  pledges 
everywhere.  One  of  these  men  was  to  cross  the  path  of 
Brother  Ray;  his  name  was  Peter  Kirvin  in  the  dis- 
trict composed  of  Marengo,  Clark,  Choctaw  and  Wash- 
ington Counties. 

He  was  a  strong  preacher  and  a  genial  fellow  out  of 
the  pulpit.  When  the  great  gatherings  met  at  the 
Associations,  Peter  Kirvin  was  one  man  who  was  sure 
to  be  put  forward.  Ray  attended  the  Associations  and 
Peter  Kirvin  tore  all  his  theology  to  pieces  and  knock- 
ed all  his  anti-mission  notions  out  of  his  head.  So 
marvelous  was  the  change,  when  he  was  converted  to 
missionary  notions,  like  Paul,  he  was  soon  advocating 
"publicly  and  from  house  to  house  the  things  he  once 
endeavored  to  destroy."  His  development  was  so 
rapid,  he  was  selected  by  the  Board,  a  few  years  later, 
to  take  his  place,  when  Peter  Kirvin  moved  West. 

Ray's  ministerial  education  came  solely  from  the 
study  of  the  Bible  with  few  helps  and  attending  As- 
sociations. Now  and  then,  a  good  book  fell  into  his 
hands  and  he  eagerly  devoured  its  contents.  I  have 
often  heard  him  urging  the  preachers  to  attend  the  As- 
sociations for  the  good  they  would  get  out  of  them. 

From  his  call  to  the  ministry,  God,  whose  call  he 
answered,  had  him  in  school  preparing  him  for  the 
greater  work  he  was  to  do  later  on.  His  Hardshell  ex- 
periences were  no  disadvantage  to  him.  He  learned 
the  deep  things  of  God  as  he  never  could  have  learned 


284  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

them  in  the  schools.  He  learned  the  power  of  preju- 
dice and  how  to  deal  with  it. 

His  farmer-preacher  experience,  was  no  handicap 
either,  although  for  years  it  kept  him  tied  down  to 
business  to  the  neglect  of  his  calling.  With  a  good  liv- 
ing assured  from  his  farm,  of  course  he  could  not  ex- 
pect anything  from  his  churches,  even  after  he  got  into 
line  with  the  missionary  Baptists.  I  doubt,  if  in  those 
days,  he  ever  said  a  word  in  his  preaching  about  the  la- 
borer being  worthy  of  his  hire.  His  real  usefulness  be- 
gan when  he  turned  his  back  upon  the  farm  and  began 
to  give  himself  wholly  to  the  work  of  the  ministry. 

How  much  a  good  wife  had  to  do  with  all  his  suc- 
cesses, we  can  never  know ;  but  some  of  us  feel  that  the 
wives  of  preachers  who  "stay  by  the  stuff,"  while  their 
husbands  are  away  preaching,  may  some  day,  wear 
brighter  crowns  than  their  husbands. 

His  agency  work  probably  was  his  most  success- 
ful work,  though  he  did  well  in  the  pastorate  too.  "A 
money  getter"  is  often  the  most  dread  man  in  the  de- 
nomination, but  it  was  not  so  with  Ray.  The  people 
were  always  glad  to  see  him,  whether  they  gave  or  not. 
It  was  a  common  thing  for  the  people  to  say:  "Ray 
can  get  money  where  there  is  none."  Because  of  his 
success  in  this  line  he  was  engaged,  at  different  times, 
for  almost  everything  until  he  was  generally  called 
"The  pack-horse  of  the  denomination."  Now  that  he 
is  gonci  he  richly  deserves  a  monument  in  the  shape 
of  some  building  for  some  useful  purpose,  on  some  of 
our  college  grounds. 

Perhaps  the  best  work  he  did  was  in  church  building. 
The  writer  wished  him  turned  loose  in  the  State  to 
follow  the  lines  of  the  new  railroads  and  secure  the 
erection  of  houses  of  worship  in  the  new  towns.  In 
many  a  place,  where  the  Baptists  were  numerous,  but 
unorganized,  he  has  dropped  in,  called  the  people  to- 
gether at  the  school  house  for  a  night  service,   and 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  285 

before  they  dismissed,  had  raised  a  good  subscription 
and  appointed  a  committee  to  secure  a  lot  and  pro- 
ceed with  the  erection  of  a  building.  He  had  a  good 
idea  of  church  architecture  and  could  submit  plans 
for  a  commodious  up-to-date  building.  There  is  no 
more  needful  work  than  this  and  Ray  was  fitted  by 
nature  and  experience  to  lead  in  it.  There  are  many 
towns  now  in  Alabama,  which  are  only  waiting  for  that 
sort  of  man  to  lead  them.  The  Baptists  of  the  State 
lost  a  great,  opportunity,  when  their  board  refused  to 
continue  him  in  the  work  for  which  he  was  so  well 
fitted. 

Ray  was  tried  in  more  ways  than  any  other  and  for 
a  longer  time ;  he  was  never  found  wanting  anywhere. 
These  lines  poorly  express  my  feelings  for  him  and 
my  appreciation  for  his  great  service. 

It  may  be,  some  sweet  day,  we  will  sit  down  toge- 
ther in  the  Home  of  the  Blest  and  talk  it  all  over,  as 
we  have  never  had  the  time  to  do  here. 

M.  B.  Wharton  was  a  Virginian,  a  graduate  of  Rich- 
mond College  and  of  the  Seminary.  He  had  been  pas- 
tor of  numbers  of  the  best  churches  in  the  South. 
Where  I  knew  him  best,  he  was  pastor  of  the  first 
church,  Montgomery.  He  had  traveled  much,  once 
U.  S.  Consul  at  some  point  in  Germany.  He  was  the 
author  of  a  book  of  travels  and  another:  "Famous 
Women  of  the  Bible."  He  was  much  in  demand  as  a 
lecturer.  "Some  men  can  make  books  but  cannot 
sell  them.  I  can  both  make  and  sell  them,"  he  re- 
marked. He  was  a  brilliant  man,  a  ready  and  enter- 
taining speaker. 

In  the  controversy  that  arose  about  the  removal  of 
the  Howard,  he  was  much  criticised.  He  it 
was  who  moved  the  Previous  Question,  which 
cut  ofif  debate  and  brought  the  house  to  a 
vote.  This  resulted  in  its  removal.  After  the 
vote    was    taken,    most    of     the     Birmingham     dele- 


286  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

gation  boarded  the  first  train  and  left;  all  of  which 
looked  like  a  cut  and  dried  programme  in  which  Whar- 
ton figured  by  agreement.  The  Marion  people  and 
their  sympathizers  remembered  this  against  him  and 
he  felt  it  keenly,  for  many  of  his  own  church  were 
much  opposed  to  removal.  When  the  Judson  burned 
and  they  were  casting  about  for  a  location,  should 
it  be  determined  to  remove  it,  some  one  suggested  to 
Wharton  that  an  effort  be  made  to  secure  Hamner 
Hall  Park  in  Montgomery  for  the  place.  To  which 
he  replied :    *T  have  had  enough  of  removing  Colleges." 

R.  H.  Pratt  at  Six  Mile  in  Bibb  County,  estabhshed 
a  school,  all  his  own,  which  deserves  mention.  My  ad- 
miration for  boys  who  were  born  in  obscurity  and 
struggled  with  poverty  and  hard  labor  and  finally  were 
victors,  knows  no  bounds.  Such  a  boy  was  R.  H. 
Pratt.  He  finally  graduated  at  the  University  of  Ala- 
bama, just  before  the  Civil  War.  The  first  I  knew  of 
him,  he  had  a  large  body  of  young  people  under  him 
at  Six  Mile  Academy.  He  had  a  great  wife  who  for 
twenty-five  years  taught  with  him.  As  principal  of 
the  Academy  and  Superintendent  of  the  Sunday 
School,  he  wielded  a  wholesome  influence  which  bless- 
ed the  homes  of  Bibb  County,  yes,  and  the  world  for 
he  had  the  training  of  a  list  of  preachers,  of  whom  the 
denomination  is  proud.  At  67  he  retired  from  the 
school  and  became  Superintendent  of  Education  for 
his  County. 

Here  are  the  names  of  some  of  the  preachers  who 
received  instruction  under  him:  A.  E.  Burns,  deceased; 
J.  M.  Thomas,  for  years  pastor  of  Talladega;  A.  J. 
Hobson,  19  years  pastor  of  1st  Church,  Jacksonville, 
Fla. ;  M.  E.  Weaver,  in  Louisiana;  F.  H.  Harrington, 
now  Missionary  of  Birmingham  Association ;  D.  Z. 
Woolley,  pastor  of  Wilsonville ;  Joe  Wells,  in  Florida; 
Isaac  Langston  in  Texas ;  J.  H.  Longcrier,  doing  en- 
listment work  in  Alabama ;  Ross  Arnold,    pastor    at 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  287 

Greenville;  George  Freeman,  and  Sutton  Smitherman, 
Bibb  County. 

J.  M.  McCord,  born  in  South  Carolina.  H^e  had  good 
educational  training  at  Wetumpka  and  Howard  Col- 
lege. While  teaching  in  Six  IMile  Academy,  Prof.  Pratt 
made  a  great  contribution  to  the  cause,  by  giving  his 
daughter,  Florence,  who  had  been  teaching  music 
with  him  for  ten  years,  to  McCord  for  a  wife.  She 
proved  a  real  help-mate  and  a  great  mother  to  his 
children.  One  of  their  sons.  Dr.  Cary  Pratt  McCord, 
after  graduating  at  the  Howard  and  the  University  of 
Michigan,  went  into  research  work ;  during  the  war  in 
France  was  made  a  Major  and  is  now  in  the  University 
of  Cincinnati.  McCord  was  a  pure,  gentlemanly  man. 
He  served  many  churches  in  the  State.  When 
I  say  "served,"  I  mean  what  the  word  implies.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  faithful  pastors,  I  ever  knew. 
He  went  into  the  homes  of  his  people  and  this  put  him 
in  their  hearts.  He  "lived  of  the  Gospel" — without  re- 
sorting to  secular  employment. 

A.  E.  Bums  was  a  stem-winder.  As  full  of  energy 
as  an  egg  is  of  meat.  A  Bibb  County  boy  and  raised 
on  the  farm.  Prof.  Pratt  took  a  fancy  to  him  and  all 
the  schooling  he  had  was  in  Six  Mile  Academy.  When 
his  education  was  sufficient,  he  began  teaching — a 
combination  of  occupations  which  many  preachers 
have  used  to  great  advantage.  His  greatest  useful- 
ness began  when  he  consecrated  himself  wholly  to 
the  ministry.  He  was  one  of  the  Board's  most  effi- 
cient evangelists  in  the  Tennessee  Valley  and  North 
Alabama  Associations.  Burns  had  a  big  heart,  espe- 
cially did  he  sympathize  with  young  preachers.  Quite 
a  number  were  influenced  by  him  to  enter  the  minis- 
try. He  was  proud  of  his  oldest  boy,  Percy,  whom  he 
lived  to  see,  a  graduate  of  Howard  College.  He  is 
now  a  Professor  in  the  Howard.  He  has  been  given 
a  year  oiT,  which  he  is  spending  in  Harvard  University. 


288  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

All  the  Burns  children  seem  to  have  been  ambitious 
for  learning  and  are  making  themselves  felt  in  vari- 
ous stations  of  usefulness. 

So  the  poor  boy,  reared  betv^een  the  plow  handles, 
the  son  of  a  w^idowed  mother,  lived  a  life  of  great  use- 
fulness and  left  seven  children  to  bless  the  world. 

CHAPTER  7. 

Lewis  Johnson.  Fifty  years  ago,  I  became  pastor 
of  old  Providence  Church  in  Dallas  County.  Not  far 
away,  was  the  home  of  this  dear  brother.  A  little  my 
senior,  he  became  one  of  the  young  preacher's  faith- 
ful advisers.  He  and  the  good  wife  were  never  ab- 
sent from  church  and  the  preacher  was  ever  welcome 
at  their  home.  He  had  been  a  brave  Confederate  sol- 
dier and  that  was  a  strong  tie  to  bind  us.  In  the  army 
he  became  a  Lieutenant  and  served  with  distinction  in 
the  58th  Alabama.  On  the  Chicakmauga  battle-field, 
Lieutenant  Johnson,  while  commanding  his  Company, 
was  supposed  mortally  wounded  and  left  on  the  field 
all  night.  He  was  discovered  next  morning  and 
brought  in  and  his  valuable  life  saved. 

He  became  a  deacon  of  his  church.  Modest  and  re- 
tiring in  the  presence  of  the  old  deacons,  he  did  but 
little — indeed  deacons  didn't  know,  in  those  days  that 
anything  was  expected  of  them,  except  to  hand  around 
the  elements  on  communion  occasions.  The  pastor,  af- 
ter faithfully  trying  to  get  one  to  Superintend  a  Sun- 
day School,  organized  one  and  conducted  it  himself 
on  the  two  Sundays  he  preached.  This  he  did  for  a 
year  or  more  and  it  was  a  great  school,  but  hard  on 
the  pastor.  Finally  an  announcement  about  like  this 
was  made :  "At  the  next  service  the  school  will  be 
abandoned,  unless  some  one  can  be  found  to  take 
charge   as   Superintendent."     The  pressure   then   be- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  289 

came  so  great  on  Lewis,  he  yielded  and  through  the 
remaining  years  of  his  life,  except,  when  too  feeble, 
he  stood  to  his  post.  Faithfulness  characterized  his 
whole  course  in  life.  He  kept  an  open  house,  espec- 
ially to  preachers  and  all  who  might  be  sent  to  him. 
He  was  everybody's  man.  Justice  of  the  Peace,  sur- 
veyor and  general  adviser.  His  neighbors,  white  and 
black,  made  free  use  of  him  and  he  was  never  too  busy 
to  serve  them. 

He  was  Moderator  of  the  Selma  Association,  until 
too  feeble  to  attend  to  the  duties.  The  citizens  of  the 
county  never  had  a  more  faithful  service  than  that  he 
rendered  in  the  Legislature. 

In  later  years  he  became  possessed  of  ample  means, 
which  he  dealt  out  with  a  liberal  hand.  It  was  a  joy 
to  him  to  give  to  God  and  humanity. 

E.  W.  Haygood,  his  pastor,  writes  me :  "One  of  the 
last  things  Brother  Johnson  did,  before  taking  his 
bed,  was  to  sign  a  pledge  card  for  $10,000  on  the  75 
Million  compaign,  for  the  Howard  and  Judson.  He 
talked  to  all  who  visited  him  about  the  campaign  and 
encouraged  them  to  give.  He  kept  up  family  prayer 
every  night  until  he  became  so  weak  he  could  not 
read.  His  life  was  a  living  epistle  indeed.  The  church 
and  neighborhood  have  lost  a  friend." 

Not  many  weeks  before  his  death,  his  old  pastor, 
on  the  eve  of  a  trip  to  Texas  wrote  in  his  Memories  of 
Lewis  Johnson  and  Ben  Ellis,  these  words :  "The  old 
pastor  and  his  two  friends  are  all  getting  very  old, 
their  time  is  short.  Which  will  go  across  first,  our 
Father  only  knows,  but  'When  the  roll  is  called  up 
yonder,  Ave'll  be  there."  Lewis  was  the  first  of  the 
trio  to  go.  If  we  are  "Only  remembered  by  what  we 
have  done,"  this  modest  brother  has  memorials  plenty, 
about  old  Providence  and  in  Dallas  County. 


290  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Ben  F.  Ellis:  One  of  my  friends  when  I  most  need- 
ed one.  A  young  preacher  starting  on  his  great  work, 
needs  friends  of  all  sorts.  Fortunate  will  he  be,  if 
some  sensible,  big-hearted,  business  man  will  take 
him  under  the  shadow  of  his  wing.  This  is  what  Ben 
Ellis  did  for  me. 

The  membership  of  Providence  Church  was  scat- 
tered over  a  large  territory.  The  large  plantations 
were  occupied  by  a  great  negro  population — the  whites 
were  far  apart.  The  Providence  field  was  probably 
twelve  miles  square.  Four  miles  from  the  church, 
on  a  good  farm,  lived  a  pair  of  fine  people,  with  two 
small  children.  Into  that  home  I  was  introduced  and 
I  became  a  frequent  and  ever  welcomed  visitor.  That 
was  the  home  of  B.  F.  Ellis,  now  an  ex-Senator  and 
a  Brigadier  General  of  the  Confederate  Veterans.  He 
was  an  up-to-date  farmer,  a  successful  merchant  and 
a  faithful  member  of  the  church.  Attending  preach- 
ing regularly  and  paying  his  part,  was  about  as  far 
as  I  ever  succeeded  in  developing  him — that  is  going  a 
long  way,  with  most  men.  He  was  a  safe  adviser  and 
stood  with  the  pastor  in  everything  he  undertook.  His 
devoted  wife  stood  with  him  and  encouraged  him  in  all 
his  efforts  for  his  church  and  neighborhood.  He  had 
been  in  the  Confederate  army  and  that  formed  a 
strong  bond  of  union.  He  was  among  the  first 
to  enlist.  His  fine  business  sense  was  soon 
recognized  and  he  became  the  Regimental 
Quartermaster.  While  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty, 
issuing  clothing  to  the  soldiers,  he  was  wounded  and 
came  near  losing  his  life  in  the  hospital.  Ben  Ellis, 
Lewis  Johnson  and  Deacon  Wm.  Day  were  the  first 
to  go  with  the  pastor  to  the  Association.  Getting  the 
members  to  the  Associations  and  Conventions  and 
bringing  strong  preachers  from  the  outside,  were  the 
two  things  the  pastor  worked  to  great  advantage  for 
the  development  of  his  people.    No  preacher  ever  came 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  291 

to  Providence  and  went  away  empty  handed ;  every 
agent  of  the  denomination  was  welcomed  and  Ben  El- 
lis and  Lewis  Johnson  were  the  two  men,  with  dear  old 
Deacon  Cochran,  who  led  the  balance  to  do  generous 
things.  Orrville,  after  my  time,  organized  a  church 
to  which  the  Ellises  belonged.  With  Providence,  they 
erected  a  comfortable  home  and  now  support  a  pastor 
between  them.  This  field  has  come  to  be  known  as 
among  the  most  liberal  in  their  gifts  in  the  State. 

Brother  Ellis  was  President  of  the  Judson  Trustees 
for  ten  years.  He  has  seen  the  Institution  grow  im- 
mensely. 

The  beautiful  home  of  the  President,  erected  as  a 
memorial  to  Zadie  Ellis,  his  youngest  daughter,  was 
made  possible  by  gifts  from  himself  and  family.  At 
a  time  when  the  Judson  was  not  so  flourishing  as  it 
now  is  and  when  he  was  not  so  well-to-do  as  he  now  is, 
he  graduated  his  three  daughters  there.  Now  that 
Lewis  Johnson  is  gone,  Ben,  and  the  old  pastor  are  the 
only  male  members  left  of  the  old  church,  as  I  knew 
them  fifty  years  ago. 

Of  the  noble  women,  I  can  call  to  mind  only  three 
who  linger  on  the  border — Mrs.  William  Day,  Miss 
Necie  Mosley  and  Mrs.  Frank  Mosley. 

Two  preachers  have  gone  out  from  the  church :  P. 
L.  Mosley  and  Graham  Mosley.  Emily  Mosley  be- 
came the  wife  of  Rev.  E.  B.  Hardie  and  moved  away  to 
Texas.  Old  Deacon  C.  M.  Cochran,  one  of  the  pillars 
of  the  church  as  long  as  he  lived,  contributed  a  lovely 
daughter  to  become  the  helpmeet  to  the  pastor.  Ver- 
ily that  gift  was  his  greatest. 

These  are  probably  the  last  lines  the  old  pastor 
will  ever  write  about  the  long  ago. 

Deacon  Claudius  McRelas  Cochran,  of  Providence 
Church.  He  was  the  senior  deacon  of  the  first  church 
I  served  as  pastor.  I  found  a  home  in  his  family.  Not 
a   cent  would  he  ever  receive   for  my  board   or  the 


292  A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

feed  of  my  horse,  and  he  was  constantly  giving  val- 
uable books  to  me.  His  youngest  child,  for  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  became  my  devoted  wife  and 
the  mother  of  my  children.  Brother  Cochran  was 
born  in  Massachusetts ;  when  quite  young  he  was 
brought  to  South  Carolina  an  orphan  boy.  What  be- 
came of  other  members  of  the  family  or  what  were 
the  circumstances  that  brought  him  South,  I  do  not 
know.  There  is  not  a  soul  now  living  who 
does  know.  In  South  Carolina  he  was  married  to 
Eleanor  Pouncey.  She  was  a  granddaughter  of  Col. 
Caleb  Kolb,  who  was  an  officer  in  the  Revolutionary 
war.  After  the  war  he  was  killed  by  the  Tories.  He 
was  buried  on  the  Great  Pedee  River,  where  a  mon- 
ument marks  the  grave.  I  guess  the  couple  became 
members  of  a  Baptist  church  early  in  life.  In  1834, 
having  moved  to  Alabama,  a  few  years  earlier, 
they  became  members  of  Providence  by  letter.  I  pre- 
sume he  was  already  a  deacon,  as  he  was  soon  rec- 
ognized as  a  deacon  and  served  in  that  capacity  until 
he  was  relieved  because  of  his  infirmity,  at  his  own 
request.  He  was  true  to  his  church  and  denomina- 
tion and  generous  with  his  gifts.  He  became  pos- 
sessed of  some  rich  lands  in  West  Dallas  by  grants 
from  the  government.  The  old  land  patents  were 
signed  by  President  Andrew  Jackson. 

He  was  the  owner  of  a  number  of  slaves,  most  of 
whom  he  raised.  After  freedom  the  old  ser- 
vants were  quite  fond  of  "Old  Marster"  and 
"Missus."  He  gave  all  his  children  liberal  educa- 
tions. Two  noble  boys  died  in  the  Confederate  Service 
and  it  was  pathetic  to  hear  the  old  people  talk  of  those 
lost  boys — two  others,  Drs.  Wm.  A.  and  Robt.  M.  were 
in  the  Confederate  medical  service  in  the  war,  the  lat- 
ter being  quite  young.  Dr.  W.  A.  made  a  great  repu- 
tatios  as  a  surgeon.  He  could  have  stood  among  the 
first  men  of  the  profession,  but  he  sacrificed  himself 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  293 

to  be  near  his  old  parents.  He  fell  a  victim  to  dis- 
ease in  the  prime  of  his  life.  He  was  a  devoted  mem- 
ber of  Providence — noted  not  only  for  his  skill  in  his 
profession,  but  his  courtly  manners  and  manly  quali- 
ties, which  tied  everybody  to  him.  Deacon  Cochran 
as  a  citizen  and  neighbor  was  above  reproach.  My 
recollection  is,  he  once  told  me,  he  had  never  had 
a  law-suit  and  never  had  signed  a  mortgage.  I  knew 
of  cases  where  he  allowed  himself  defrauded  rather 
than  have  a  law-suit. 

I  mention  in  another  place  the  great  pleasure  Dea- 
con Cochran  had  in  his  own  home  one  night  when 
all  the  preachers  spent  the  night  under  his  roof  dur- 
ing the  Baptist  Rally,  which  turned  out  to  be  the 
last  meeting  he  attended. 

Probably  no  greater  trial  came  to  these  dear 
old  people  than  when  they  gave  up  their  young- 
est daughter,  with  her  three  young  children  to 
go  with  her  preacher-husband  to  Meridian,  Miss. 
The  separation  was  bad  enough,  but  their  dis- 
tress was  greatly  increased  when  news  came 
that  the  yellow  fever  had  driven  the  mother  and  her 
children  to  the  country  and  left  the  husband  to  bat- 
tle with  the  scourge.  The  mails  were  irregular  and 
the  railroads  uncertain.  The  weary  days,  how  long 
they  seemed !  But  the  Lord  was  good  and  spared 
them  all  to  be  under  their  roof  again.  It  was  my 
privilege  to  see  the  good  old  deacon  cross  the  river 
on  February  22d,  1885.  His  breath  went  out  while 
he  was  trying  to  repeat:  "Oh,  Death,  where  is  thy 
sting!"  He  uttered  clearly  only  the  first  two  words. 
It  was  the  greatest  pleasure  of  the  daughter's  life 
to  minister  to  the  wants  of  the  old  mother  in  her  own 
home  at  Marion,  a  few  years  longer.  I  have  said 
nothing  directly  about  the  patient,  elegant,  gentle- 
woman, the  deacon's  companion  and  the  devoted 
mother.     Inferences  from  my  remarks  can  be  safely 


294  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

drawn  to  show  that  she  was  all  that  a  good  woman 
could  be  in  all  the  relations  of  life. 

CHAPTER  8. 

W.  T.  Davis  was  a  preacher  little  known  outside  of 
a  few  counties  in  East  Alabama — Clay  and  Randolph 
principally.  I  was  never  with  him  enough  to  learn 
about  his  early  life,  but  this  I  know,  in  his  day,  which 
was  the  day  when  Anti-Missionism  was  rife  in  the  hill 
sections,  Davis  was  the  strong  champion  for  the  right 
and  was  more  dreaded  by  the  Antis  than  any  other 
man.  He  was  a  born  progressive  and  so  continued 
to  the  day  of  his  death,  which  occured  when  he  was 
eighty-five.    He  is  a  fine  illustration  of 

The  power  of  intelligent  leadership,  winning 
with  the  people.  In  a  time  when  people  were 
to  be  reached  wholly,  by  the  spoken  word,  this 
one  man,  stood  for  the  truth  against  the  cham- 
pions of  false  doctrine  and  won  out  before  the  peo- 
ple. He  it  was,  too,  who  most  of  all  stood  for  the 
doctrines  of  the  Baptists.  I  don't  know  how  many 
books  he  had  in  his  library,  but  he  knew  his  Bible 
and  with  that  Sword  of  the  Spirit  he  mowed  down 
the  Anti-Missionaries,  on  one  hand  and  the  Anti- 
Baptists  on  the  other,  so  that  those  Counties,  where 
he  labored,  are  largely  Baptist  and,  missionary  Bap- 
tists at  that — at  least,  they  call  themselves  Missionary 
and  would  be  offended  to  be  called  Antis,  though  many 
of  them  give  but  little  to  Missions.  However,  they 
are  improving  along  the  line  of  Giving  and  will  be 
hear  from  later  as  a  generous  host. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  how  it  came 
about  that  the  Carey  Association  was  so  named. 
The  going  of  Carey  from  England  to  India, 
was  the  lighted  match  that  caused  the  explo- 
sion   among  the  Baptists    of    that    country.    It  took 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  295 

some  years  for  the  going-  of  Carey  and  his 
work  to  percolate  through  to  our  country  neigh- 
borhoods, but  when  it  did,  the  trouble  began.  The 
great  split  came  in  1833-34.  The  Antis  said:  "We 
will  not  give  our  money  auid  you  shall  not."  That  was 
more  than  liberty-loving  men  could  stand.  The  East 
Liberty  Association  was  organized  in  1836,  taking  its 
name,  I  judge,  as  a  protest  to  the  intolerant  spirit 
that  was  rife  at  that  time.  The  Carey,  coming  after, 
must  have  been  a  defiant  body,  to  have  taken  the 
name  of  the  man  who  had  caused  all  the  trouble. 
W.  T.  Davis,  I  am  sure,  was  their  brave  leader  from 
the  start. 

John  P.  Shaffer,  when  I  knew  him,  was  a  cripple 
from  the  loss  of  half  of  one  foot,  which  was  taken 
off  by  a  cannon  ball,  in  battle,  during  the  civil  war. 
I  know  he  had  thrilling  experiences  to  relate  about 
the  war,  but  I  was  never  with  him  when  he  related 
them. 

He  was  a  handsome  fellow,  with  a  striking  per- 
sonality. He  had  made  a  reputation  in  building  a 
college  and  erecting  a  handsome  building  at  Roan- 
oke. He  had  done  the  same  thing  at  Lineville,  also. 
Those  schools  and  their  president  had  much  to  do 
with  the  well  being  of  society  in  all  East  Alabama. 
A  finer  class  of  country  people  cannot  be  found 
in  the  State  and  the  Baptists  largely  predominate. 

Shaffer  was  pastor  of  several  of  the  best  churches 
in  that  section — one  of  these,  Roanoke,  for  half  time. 
"Shaffer's  Kingdom"  extended  over  Randolph  jand 
Chambers  Counties,  comprising  the  churches  of  the 
East  Liberty  Association.  In  the  time  of  the  Hard- 
shell persecution,  "Liberty"  became  a  great  name  for 
churches  and  associations.  There  were  so  many  Lib- 
erty Associations,  they  designated  them  by  the  points 
of  the  compass.  There  was  a  West  Liberty,  a  North 
Liberty,   and   an   East   Liberty.     This   last   has   been 


296  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

N 

in  point  of  attendance,  membership  and  contributions, 
the  most  conspicuous,  until  the  last  few  years  when 
Randolph,  pulling  off  from  the  East  Liberty,  formed 
an  Association  of  its  own.  Shaffer,  for  years,  was 
Moderator  of  the  Liberty. 

"I  try  to  write  a  letter  to  every  member  of  my 
churches  every  two  months,"  he  said  to  me  on  one 
occasion.  He  wrote  a  beautiful  hand.  One  can  imag- 
ine how  the  people  would  regard  such  letters  from  a 
much  loved  pastor.  Imagine,  too,  the  time  it  took, 
when  there  were  no  typewriters  or  manifolders.  Did 
they  support  him?  Yes,  indeed,  and  that  lib- 
erally for  those  days.  His  churches  were  the  most 
liberal  and  reliable  for  regular  contributions  to  all 
objects. 

I  remember  this  incident  at  the  Carey  Association. 
An  eccentric  Doctor  Scarborough  was  the  Moderator. 
He  was  a  king  in  Zion,  for  the  time  being.  "Brother 
Moderator !"  a  fellow  would  shout.  The  Moderator 
would  look  in  his  direction  and  ask:  "What  do  you 
want?  You  don't  know  anything  about  this  matter, 
but  go  ahead.  I'll  call  you  down  if  you  don't  plumb 
the  track,"  or  "What  do  you  know  about  this?"  and 
the  fellow  would  reply:  "Brother  Moderator,  I  have 
the  floor,"  whereupon  the  Moderator  might  reply : 
"No,  sir,  you  ain't.  I'm  Moderator,  and  I  have  the 
floor."  One  fellow  said :  "We  elected  you,  and  we 
won't  do  it  again."  "Don't  make  any  difference.  I 
didn't  ask  you  to  elect  me,  but  as  long  as  I  am  here, 
I'm  going  to  have  my  own  way."  All  this  was  in 
perfect  good  humor,  and  the  house  was  in  a  roar  all 
the  time — but  to  the  incident  I  was  going  to  relate: 
A  letter  was  read  from  a  church  making  application 
for  membership,  in  which  the  statement  was  made : 
"We  hold  the  washing  of  the  Saints'  feet  as  an  ordi- 
nance with  Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper."    I  believe 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  297 

it  was  Brother  W.  T.  Davis  who  spoke  about  as  fol- 
lows : 

"Brethren,  there  are  preachers  in  this  Association, 
who,  for  years,  have  contended,  if  Foot-Washing  could 
be  discussed  before  the  Association,  the  question 
could  be  settled  right.  Now  that  it  is  brought  before 
the  Association,  brought  here  by  the  advocates  of 
Foot-Washing,  I  move  that  a  committee  be  appointed 
to   take    the    letter    in    hand,   and   bring   in    a    report 

tonight,    that    Brother   shall    represent    the 

Foot- Washers,  and  Brother  Shaffer  the  Antis,  that 
each  side  confine  himself  entirely  to  what  the  Scrip- 
tures say;  the  Association,  after  it  has  heard  the 
speeches  from  the  two,  to  vote  on  the  reception  of 
the   church." 

This  became  the  order,  after  Shaffer  had  empha- 
sized the  requirement  that  "only  what  the  Scriptures 
said  would  be  considered."  and  the  Moderator  said  he 
would  hold  both  sides  to  that  agreement.  My  recol- 
lection is,  though  I  may  be  mistaken,  the  debate  did 
not  take  place  and  the  church  was  not  received. 

Shaffer  had  a  fine  constitution,  and  one  would  have 
expected  him  to  live  to  a  ripe  old  age,  but  he  died 
almost  in  his  prime  at  Lineville,  surrounded  by  as 
loyal  children  as  the  Lord  ever  gave  to  any  man.  His 
devoted  wife  survived  him  only  a  little  while.  My 
recollection  is  that  Brother  Davis,  the  aged,  officiated 
at  his  funeral. 

W.  C.  Bledsoe  always  comes  to  mind  when  the  East 
Liberty  Association  is  mentioned.  He  has  been  the 
faithful  Clerk  of  that  body  since  my  first  acquaint- 
ance with  the  body. 

He  was  a  student  with  me  in  Georgetown,  Ken- 
tucky, just  after  the  Civil  War,  though  several  years 
my  junior.  He  was  the  same  well-behaved,  modest 
young  man  then,  that  I  have  known  him  to  be  in  all 
the  years  of  his  manhood.     Because  of  the  splendid 


298  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

training  he  had  received  at  LaFayette,  he  graduated 
in  one  year  at  Georgetown.  After  marrying 
and  being  pastor  in  Kentucky  for  several  years,  he 
became  pastor  of  his  home  church.  He  w^as  in  the 
service  of  his  County  in  several  different  capacities, 
and  pastor  of  churches  in  reach  of  his  home.  If  any- 
body has  ever  made  a  better  Association  minute  than 
Bledsoe,  I  have  never  seen  it.  The  troublesome 
question  of  reading  the  letters  at  the  Association,  is 
solved  by  Bledsoe — he  reads  all  of  them  himself, 
omitting  every  superflous  word. 

When  I  moved  away  to  Kentucky,  after  serving  as 
Secretary  for  ten  years,  Bledsoe  was  elected  in  my 
place  and  acted  in  that  capacity  most  of  the  time  until 
my  return  to  the  State. 

John  F.  Bledsoe  was  father  of  W.  C.  I  met  him 
not  many  times,  but  I  heard  of  his  work  from  many 
sources.  As  Secretary,  I  had  dealings  with  him,  as 
he  was  a  most  faithful  Colporter  of  the  Board.  He  was 
a  scholar,  he  knew  books  and  what  the  people  needed 
to  read.  He  was  in  great  sympathy  with  country 
life.  All  these  qualifications  fitted  him  to  be  a  most 
effective  worker  and  the  best  colporter  in  the  State. 
Go  where  you  may  in  the  East  Liberty  Association, 
you.  will  find  some  of  "Uncle  John  Bledsoe's"  books 
on  the  center  table.  I  am  sure  this  is  the  reason  of 
the  rate  of  intelligence  one  will  find,  above  the  aver- 
age, in  the  Association. 

A  younger  son  of  this  good  man,  James  Bledsoe, 
is  a  useful  preacher  and  another,  Frank,  has  attained 
distinction  as  a  teacher  in  Massachusetts. 

Z.  D.  Roby,  a  North  Carolinian  by  birth,  son  of  a 
preacher,  a  chum  of  Shaffer,  best  known  in  Macon 
County,  where  most  of  his  ministerial  work  was  done, 
was  not  intimately  known  to  me,  for  I  was  with  him 
but  little.     He  was   pastor   for   some   while   at  Tus- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  299 

kegee  and  Opelika.  He  was  scholarly,  a  strong 
preacher  and  a  congenial  companion. 

W.  E.  Lloyd  was  the  son  of  a  preacher,  W.  S.  Lloyd 
of  East  Alabama,  whose  tragic  death  is  talked  about 
by  the  very  old  people  to  this  day.  He  was  consid- 
ered a  fine  preacher  and  died  suddenly,  falling  in  the 
pulpit.  He  was  a  man  of  remarkable  weight  of  body, 
280  pounds. 

Like  his  father,  W.  E.  was  fleshy,  so  much  so  it 
was  a  serious  handicap  to  his  ministry.  He  once  said 
to  the  writer:  "I  have  about  quit  going  anywhere,  as 
it  is  embarrassing.  I  break  down  so  many  chairs  and 
beds."  His  genial  spirit  and  wise  counsel  and  schol- 
arly gifts,  made  him  an  interesting  character  and 
popular  preacher.  He  was  a  pastor  when  I  knew 
him  at  Auburn. 

E.  F.  Baber  was  among  the  first  evangelists  ap- 
pointed by  the  Board  to  travel  in  the  district  embrac- 
ing the  counties  from  Hale  on  the  west  to  Bullock 
on  the  east.  When  I  first  knew  him  he  was  con- 
nected with  a  paper  in  Greenville. 

He  married  a  fine  young  woman.  Miss  Rives,  of 
Collirene.  He  was  the  pastor  of  a  number  of  churches 
in  Dallas  and  Lowndes.  Not  an  interesting  speaker 
and  a  failure  socially,  but  as  a  pastor,  he  delivered  the 
goods.  He  said  to  me  once,  when  I  had  rather  crit- 
icized him  for  the  loose  way  he  took  in  members,  "We 
know  each  other's  fields  pretty  well.  You  criticize 
me  for  my  looseness  in  taking  in  members,  while  you 
are  much  more  careful.  Suppose  we  go  over  the  men 
each  of  us  have  baptized  and  compare  their  lives.  It 
was  agreed  to.  We  hadn't  gone  far  in  the  investiga- 
tion, before  I  held  up  my  hands  and  said,  "nough." 
His  men  had  turned  out  best.  His  training  in  a  print- 
ing office  and  his  letters  from  the  field,  in  the  Ala- 
bama Baptist,  while  he  was  an  evangelist,  marked  him 
as  a  suitable  man  for  Major  Harris  to  have  in  charge 


300  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

of  the  paper.  Probably  its  most  prosperous  years 
were  while  Baber  was  the  office  man,  and  to  him 
most  of  the  credit  of  its  success  was  due. 

W.  G.  Curry  was  another  one  of  the  original  evan- 
gelists under  the  Mission  Board.  He  was  but  a  boy 
in  the  army ;  he  was  promoted  to  a  Chaplaincy  though 
very  young.  Like  many  another  preacher,  he  was 
fortunate  in  the  wife  he  got.  She  made  his  home 
happy  and  helped  marvelously  in  the  churches  where 
he  labored.  His  most  successful  pastorate  probably 
was  Furman.  He  had  others — once  at  Albany,  but 
nowhere  did  he  fit  quite  so  well,  as  in  Wilcox.  For 
years  he  was  a  member  of  the  State  Mission  Board, 
a  silent  member  for  the  most  part.  However,  when 
he  did  speak  he  was  sure  to  be  listened  to.  The 
Board  for  years  had  been  publishing  its  willingness  to 
do  something  for  the  negroes,  if  anybody  gave  any- 
thing for  that  purpose.  Years  had  passed  and  noth- 
ing had  been  given.  The  need  was  growing  greater 
each  year.  It  was  W.  G.  Curry  who  cut  the  knot  and 
let  the  negroes  in  as  beneficiaries.  The  question  he 
asked  was  about  like  this :  "Our  Foreign  Mission 
Board  has  been  doing  something  for  Africa  for  many 
years.  Suppose  they  had  fallen  upon  our  plan  to 
help  the  negroes  with  whatever  amount  should  be 
given  for  that  purpose.  Would  they  have  ever  done 
anything  for  Africa?" 

Asking  that  question  brought  its  own  answer  and 
from  that  day  the  wants  of  the  negroes  had  been 
considered  and  aid  rendered  them.  He  gave  a  son 
to  the  ministry,  J.  Renfroe  Curry,  now  pastor  at 
Wetumpka.  A  daughter,  Bessie,  who  became  the 
wife,  until  God  took  her,  of  W.  Y.  Quisenberry,  the 
irrepressible,  called  so,  because  of  his  persistency  in 
pressing  collections,  especially  for  Foreign  Missions. 

John  Newton  Prestridge.  His  name  indicates  that 
he  descended  from  Christian  parents.    They  knew  the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  301 

life  and  honored  the  memory  of  the  man,  who  from 
being  a  very  great  sinner,  became,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  a  great  saint.  It  is  said  of  him,  while  gazing 
at  a  culprit  being  hastened  away  to  prison  with  irons 
on  his  limbs :  "There  goes  John  Newton  but  for  the 
grace  of  God."  The  first  I  knew  of  John  Prestridge 
he  was  a  bookkeeper  in  Selma.  His  grandfather, 
McCraw,  was  one  of  the  pioneer  preachers  of  the 
State.  When  John  entered  Howard  College,  a  preach- 
er who  knew  him  well,  said:  "John  is  making  a  mis- 
take. He  is  doing  well  in  business  and  is  quite  useful 
in  his  church,  but  he  won't  make  a  preacher."  But 
John  did  make  good,  after  he  finished  his  seminary 
course.  He  was  not  a  great  preacher,  but  a  suc- 
cessful pastor  at  several  points.  He  successfully 
launched  the  Baptist  Argus  enterprise,  afterwards 
called  The  Baptist  World.  It  was  a  fine  paper  and  had  a 
great  name  from  the  start,  but  it  was  not  a  financial 
success.  John  was  the  leader  in  making  the  World's 
Baptist  Congress  a  success,  for  a  time  and,  could  he 
have  lived  and  had  the  money,  it  might  have  become 
a  blessing  to  the  Baptists  of  all  the  world. 

It  was  a  great  shock  to  the  entire  denomination 
when  it  was  announced  that  John  had  suddenly  died. 
The  Western  Recorder  finally  purchased  what  was 
left  of  the  Baptist  World  and  is  now  without  a  rival 
in  the  newspaper  field  in  Kentucky. 

T.  M.  Barbour  is  another  brother  I  knew  but  little 
about.  Wherever  I  crossed  his  tracks  I  heard  of  his 
labors  abundant.  With  Tuskaloosa  as  the  central 
county  he  had  a  district  in  which  the  mining  indus- 
try was  just  beginning  to  attract  attention.  Like  all 
the  other  fields,  the  anti-missionary  spirit  largely  pre- 
vailed and  all  the  evangelists  had  that  spirit  to  com- 
bat. Indeed,  the  whole  State  lacked  but  little  of  be- 
ing anti-everything. 


302  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Wash  Wilkes  was  the  first  graduate  of  Howard  col- 
lege. His  field  of  labor  was  mostly  Talladega,  Cal- 
houn and  Shelby.  He  was  well  known  and  every- 
where regarded  as  a  strong  preacher.  In  his  work 
as  an  evangelist,  I  suspect  he  put  the  stress  on  preach- 
ing, to  the  neglect  of  specific,  developing  work.  The 
result  was  that  he  failed  to  get  his  salary  and  he 
never  got  over  it  with  the  Board,  though  it  was  stip- 
ulated in  the  contract  that  every  man  must  collect 
his  own  salary.  Brother  Wilkes  was  an  out-spoken 
man  often  bordering  on  harshness,  but  I  suspect  his 
heart  was  tenderer  than  he  ever  got  credit  for. 

J.  S.  Yarborough  is  the  last  of  the  first  batch  of 
evangelists.  Southeast  Alabama  was  his  field.  Like 
all  the  others  I  have  mentioned,  with  one  or  two 
exceptions,  he  was  making  a  living  from  his  farm, 
supplemented  by  small  salaries  from  several  congre- 
gations. 

"Dead  in  earnest"  are  the  words  that  most  nearly 
describe  this  brother.  Now  past  eighty,  he  is  dead 
in  earnest  still.  Modest  soul  that  he  is,  he  never  got 
credit  for  half  his  value.  1920,  at  the  age  of  85,  this 
good  man  fell  asleep.  How  tenderly  he  was  loved 
by  all  who  knew  him ! 

Charles  A.  Stakely  is  another  living,  I  must  leave 
a  word  for.  Incidentally  he  was  born  in  Tennessee, 
but  no  doubt  his  preference  would  have  been  Ala- 
bama, had  he  been  consulted.  I  always  pictured  him  a 
rolicking  boy  in  Montgomery.  Here  he  spent  a  part 
of  his  boyhood  days  and  was  baptized  when  quite 
young  into  the  fellowship  of  the  First  church  by  Dr. 
Gwin.  Coming  from  an  old  time,  cultivated,  south- 
ern family  he  was  carefully  reared  with  every  ad- 
vantage of  education.  After  graduation,  he  chose 
the  law  as  a  profession,  but  God  had  better  things 
for  him  and  called  him  to  the  work  of  the  ministry. 
His   ability  was   soon   recognized  and  he  was   called 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  303 

to  some  of  the  best  churches  in  the  South — Charles- 
ton and  Washington  City,  I  call  to  mind.  He  is  now, 
and  has  been  for  a  number  of  years,  in  the  pastorate 
of  the  old  First  church  where  his  discipleship  began. 
When  he  dies,  a  very  simple  slab  will  suffice  over  his 
grave  to  mark  the  spot  where  his  body  is  deposited, 
but  the  great  Marble  Temple  will  stand  through  the 
ages  as  his  monument  erected  under  his  direction, 
by  loving  hands  of  the  large  membership  of  his 
church.  When  it  is  dedicated,  if  I  am  living,  I  will 
move  that  it  be  named:  The  Stakely  Memorial. 

What  Stakely  doesn't  know  about  Hymns  and 
Hymn-writers,  is  not  worth  knowing.  This  is  not  all 
he  knows  by  any  means  .  Some  one  asked :  "What  is 
your  estimate  of  Stakely  as  a  scholar?"  The  reply 
was:  "I,  and  very  many  of  the  preachers  of  my  class, 
know  something  about  a  thousand  things ;  Stakely 
knows  a  thousand  things,  without  the  about."  Jump 
him  up  on  any  subject  and  he  can  exhaust  it  in  few 
words.  He  is  noted  for  his  short  sermons  and  that 
pleases  the  folks — fifteen  minutes  frequently  is  suffi- 
cent  time  for  his  discourse.  But  the  careful  hearer 
will  remember  his  exposition  of  Scripture  as  he  reads, 
which  often  consumes,  very  profitably  another  fif- 
teen minutes.  These  expositions  are  not  mere  off- 
hand, incidental  utterances,  but  studied  efforts  to  give 
the  true  meaning  of  the  Word. 

When  Camp  Sheridan  was  located  near  Montgom- 
ery the  women  of  the  First  church  maintained  a  free 
luncheon  and  social  service  every  Friday  night  in 
the  basement  of  the  church.  Of  course,  that  brought 
many  of  the  boys  to  the  church  at  the  Sunday  serv- 
ice. The  Ohio  boys  said  the  First  church  gave  the 
longest  welcome  and  the  shortest  sermons  of  any 
church. 

Having  been  a  lawyer  is  mo  disadvantage  to  a 
preacher.     Other  things  being  equal,  it  is  a  great  ad- 


304  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

vantage.  The  clear  cut  expressions,  the  logic  and  the 
sifting  of  evidence,  all  inure  to  his  advantage. 

Sam  Clements  lived  in  Tuskaloosa  County  and  was 
well  acquainted  in  all  the  country  in  the  region 
north  of  Tuskaloosa.  The  Secretary  had  made 
a  list  of  appointments  extending  over  ten  days 
in  that  section,  beginning  at  Fayette  Court 
House.  Sam  Clements,  behind  a  fine  pair  of 
mules,  wheeled  me  over  the  territory.  I  found 
him  well  posted  in  politics — indeed,  he  was  the  man 
in  his  neighborhood  that  the  politicians  were  most 
anxious  to  use.  He  had  a  good  farm,  a  considerable 
family  and  was  an  active  church  member.  Every 
word  spoken  in  the  meetings  he  heard.  I  do  not  re- 
call it,  if  he  spoke  in  the  meetings.  I  do  not  remem- 
ber if  he  and  I  had  any  conversation  religiously  of 
a  personal  nature,  but  I  know  he  listened  and  asked 
questions.  Deeply  grateful  for  the  service  he  ren- 
dered, the  Secretary  was  not  likely  ever  to  forget  him. 

Dawson,  the  Bishop  of  Tuscaloosa,  who  knew  Sam 
well,  and  I,  talked  it  all  over — Sam's  kindness,  espe- 
cially. Later  he  wrote  me :  "Did  you  know  Sam  Cle- 
ments has  been  ordained  to  preach?  I  think  it  a  mis- 
take at  his  time  of  life,"  and  I  agreed  with  him,  but 
two  years  later,  I  attended  the  Sipsey  Association. 
I  found  to  my  great  delight,  Sam  was  the  leading 
man  in  everything.  Every  facility  was  given  the 
Secretary  to  present  every  interest  of  the  denomina- 
tion. I  heard  him  make  good  speeches  on  several 
subjects.  On  inquiry  I  found  he  was  pastor  of  the 
best  churches  in  the  Association.  I  write  of  Sam 
to  encourage  scores  of  men  situated  as  he  was  and  to 
illustrate  our  mistakes.  It  never  entered  my  head 
one  time  that  the  Lord  wanted  Sam  to  be  a  preacher, 
or  that  such  a  thought  had  ever  entered  Sam's  head. 
I  had  been  riding  by  his  side,  talking  for  hours  about 
almost  everything,  discussing  in  his  hearing  a  call  to 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  305 

the  ministry,  and  the  great  need  of  more  laborers  in 
the  Kingdom,  and,  never  once  thinking  of  him  as  a 
preacher. 

Men  in  middle  life  with  families,  the  Lord  has  often 
called,  who  became  greatly  useful  in  Kingdom  work. 
All  over  our  country  there  are  such  men.  They  need 
only  a  little  encouragement  to  fall,  like  a  ripe  peach 
falls  from  the  stem  at  a  touch.  We  have  been  sup- 
posing that  the  called  would  be  obliged  to  answer  the 
call.    God  inclines  the  called,  but  they  may  resist. 

If  one  hesitates  from  lack  of  preparation,  we  are 
living  in  a  new  day,  and  the  chance  of  preparation  is 
going  to  be  furnished  to  every  man  who  gives  evi- 
dence of  a  call  from  God.  Preparation  will  be  suited 
to  every  age  and  condition,  in  our  winter  and  summer 
schools   and   institutes. 

I  have  looked  with  great  pleasure  into  the  face  of 
Sam  Clements  at  many  of  these  schools.  Any  good 
man,  with  ordinary  common  sense  can  greatly  increase 
his  store  of  knowledge  and  improve  by  a  few  weeks 
each  year  at  these  preacher  gatherings.  All  honor 
to  the  man,  who  overcomes  difficulties  and  serves  the 
Master  in  the  place  to  which  he  has  been  called  of 
God. 


Part  Nine 
BAPTISTS  OF  SOUTH  ALABAMA 

CHAPTER  I. 

These  embrace  the  territory  from  Montgomery 
South  to  the  gulf.  The  first  Baptists  we  have  any 
record  of  was  in  North  Alabama — in  the  Tennessee 
Valley  about  Huntsville.  Only  a  little  later  we  read 
of  Baptist  beginnings  in  South  Alabama  on  the  Ten- 
sas (Tensaw)  river  and  the  Bigbee  at  St.  Stephens, 
afterwards  the  State  Capital.  It  is  said  a  Baptist 
preacher  once  visited  St.  Stephens  and  was  ferried 
across  the  river  and  warned  never  to  return.  The 
third  church  in  the  State,  Enon,  now  First  church, 
Huntsville,  being  the  second,  was  Bassetts  Creek,  near 
Choctaw  Corner  in  Clarke  County,  organized  in  1810. 

The  first  Association  on  Alabama  soil  was  the  Beck- 
be  (Bethlehem)  in  1812.  It  finally  extended  to  the 
Mississippi  line  west  and  from  Lowndes  County  to 
the   Gulf. 

The  Baptists  abound  now  in  all  the  South  Ala- 
bama territory.  The  names  of  Travis,  Lindsey  and 
Sessions,  the  pioneer  preachers,  are  very  frequent  in 
all  this  region.  In  the  Wiregrass,  the  term  given  to 
Southeast  Alabama,  Baptists  are  strongest.  The  last 
few  years  have  witnessed  the  greatest  transformation 
— the  sweeping  away  of  the  vast  pine  forests  and  the 
opening  up  to  agriculture  a  country  which  is  likely 
to  be  the  most  wealthy  in  the  State.  Lands  have  gone 
up  in  value  from  $1.00  an  acre  to  $75  and  $100.  The 
reports  coming  from  that  section  about  the  money 
value  of  their  crops  and  stock  are  almost  unbeliev- 
able. Of  course,  the  Baptists  have  their  share  in 
this  great  increase  in  wealth.     What  it  is  going  to 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  307 

do  for  them  is  a  question.  If  their  pulpits  were  filled 
with  a  well  informed,  consecrated  m'inistry,  Ihere 
would  be  no  question.  But  for  the  most  part,  the 
preachers  are  secularized — many  of  them  with  the 
money  bee  buzzing  in  their  bonnets.  There  can  be 
no  study,  no  visting  and  I  doubt  if  there  can  be  much 
praying,  where  that  is  the  case.  "Not  a  lover  of 
money,"  was  one  of  the  qualifications  of  a  bishop, 
Paul  wrote  his  son  Timothy,  again  he  exhorts:  "But 
thou,  O  man  of  God,  flee  these  things,"  referring  to 
the  entanglements  of  money. 

If  reference  were  made  to  the  books,  it  would  be 
found  that  almost  every  church  in  the  towns  of  im- 
portance in  the  Wiregrass,  was  helped  in  its  early 
struggles  by  the  State  Mission  Board — Dothan  being 
a  conspicuous  example.  Troy  is,  or  was  the  chief 
city  in  those  parts,  but  I  suspect  Dothan  would  dis- 
pute that  claim  now.  Troy  was  a  center  of  a  large 
wagon  trade  before  there  was  a  railroad.  Its  chief 
founders  were  country  men  who  moved  to  town  and 
became  rich.  I  remember  the  old  barn  of  a  frame 
building  where  they  worshipped,  only  twice  a  month. 

They  had  an  erratic  preacher  who  rode  a  high 
wheel,  wore  long  hair  and  was  probably  their  first  all- 
time  preacher.  My,  how  he  could  preach !  He  was  a 
charmer  when  it  came  to  talk  and  certainly  he  was 
a  good  man.  Because  he  rode  a  wheel,  the  first  in 
those  parts,  and  made  much  of  oratory,  which  not 
many  of  us  can  do,  he  was  much  critized.  He  made 
friends  who  would  die  for  him,  as  well  as  enemies 
who  criticized  unmercifully.  He  afterwards  preached 
in  Montgomery — then  in  Chattanooga,  and  then  re- 
turned to  Florida — where  it  is  said  he  had  a  great 
orange  orchard.  I  frequently  heard  of  his  preaching 
after  his  return  to  his  Florida  home,  but  I  think  he 
filled  no  important  pulpit.  It  was  frequently  said 
he  filled  the  house  with  people  to  hear,  but  added  but 


308  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

few,  if  any,  to  the  church.  I  refer  to  Dr.  Wombolt. 
He  took  no  interest  in  the  denomination,  nor  in  his 
church,  for  that  matter,  except  to  preach  to  them. 

llie  real  growth  of  the  Baptists  at  Troy  came  with 
John  Purser,  a  fine  young  fellow  from  Mississippi. 
He  came  into  the  State  with  his  older  brother,  D.  I., 
who  was  an  evangelist  and  John  was  his  singer  and 
helper.  A  charming  widow  caught  John  and  he  tar- 
ried at  this  fine  young  city  in  the  piney  woods  for 
quite  a  while.    I  sometimes  tell  of: 

The  time  when  I  was  inspired.  It  was  about  this 
way:  The  third  session  of  our  Baptist  Congress  went 
to  Troy.  They  had  just  finished  a  fine  $20,000.00 
church  building.  It  was  the  wonder  for  all  that  part 
of  the  State.  At  an  informal  reception  the  night  be- 
fore, when  everything  was  moving  along  swimmingly^ 
John  said :  "Crumpton,  I'm  going  to  call  on  you  for  a 
speech  presently."  I  protested  that  he  would  ruin 
everything  to  break  up  the  informality  that  was  pre- 
vailing. "But,"  he  said,  "Dr.  Hiden  is  going  to  re- 
cite for  us,"  to  which  I  responded:  "For  heaven's  sake, 
don't.  We've  nobody  to  match  Hiden,  if  Wharton  or 
Nunnally  were  here  it  would  be  different."  I  saw 
he  was  determined.  I  looked  for  my  hat  and  over- 
coat, but  they  were  under  a  chair  where  a  lady  was 
sitting.  I  began  to  think  and  perspire,  winter  as  it 
was,  but  it  was  no  go.  I  was  as  dry  as  a  pasture 
in  August.  Presently  the  word  sounded  out:  "If  you 
will  all  arrange  your  seats  Dr.  Hiden  will  recite  for 
us,  "The  One-Horse  Chaise."  Oh,  the  agony  of  the 
moments — what  would  I  say !  Great  relief  came  with 
the  announcement:  "Brother  Hale  will  speak  to  us." 
Tom  arose  with  a  speech  about  like  this :  "I  have-er- 
nothing  to  say-er-Brother  Purser-er-said-er-Dr.  Hi- 
den would-er-recite-er-again  if  somebody  would-er- 
speak-er."  I  am  not  making  fun  of  Tom,  for  I  could 
not  have  done  as  well,  I  am  sure.     Then  Hiden  gave 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  309 

us  a  sidesplitter.  I  was  almost  ready  to  die  with 
fright  thinking  I'd  be  next.  I  thought  of  every  joke 
I  ever  told  and  nothing  would  fit.  Fortunately  he 
called  on  Pickard.  He  arose  with  as  solemn  a  face 
as  if  he  had  been  at  a  funeral  and  with  a  sort  of  sepul- 
chral tone,  said:  "I  never  could  tell  a  joke.  I  am  poor 
at  reciting,  but  maybe  I  can  say  something  in  keep- 
ing with  the^object  that  brought  us  to  Troy."  With 
that  he  came  down  one  one  knee,  turned  his  eyes  to 
the  ceiling  and  with  folded  hands,  in  the  most  dra- 
matic way,  recited  the  Lord's  Prayer.  With  such  a 
turn  to  the  serious,  my  task  seemed  crushing,  for  I 
was  sure  my  time  had  come.  "Brother  Crumpton," 
said  John.  It  camie  to  me  like  a  flash  from  the  blue: 
"We  have  had  the  Lord's  Prayer,  now  let  us  have 
the  long  meter  Doxology,  and  all  go  home.  Brother 
Adams,  lead  us."  That  was  in  the  days  when  the 
doxology  came  at  the  close,  not  in  the  beginning,  as  in 
these  days.  It  was  help  from  above  for  me,  so  I  have 
a  right  to  call  it  "the  time  when  I  was  inspired."  John 
doesn't  know  till  this  day  who  broke  up  his  meet- 
ing— whether  Pickard  or  L 

My,  what  a  church  has  Troy  today !  I  guess  the 
town  is  the  wealthiest  of  the  smaller  cities  and  the 
church  stands  far  up  towards  the  front  in  liberality. 
It  has  had  some  great  preachers,  R.  J.  Batemen  one 
of  them.  He  gave  them  five  years  of  faithful  serv- 
ice, putting  them  on  the  mission  map.  To  the  re- 
great  of  everybody,  he  went  away  to  Meridian,  Mis- 
sissippi. 

I  tell  about  the  begimiings  at  Dothan  in  another 
place. 

I  had  never  been  in  South  East  Alabama.  I  got 
the  minutes  of  some  of  the  Associations,  picked  out 
some  of  the  strongest  churches,  named  a  date  when 
I'd  be  there,  with  other  brethren,  to  carry  out  the 
program.     I  didn't  know  a  soul  in  all  the  region  ex- 


310  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

cept  a  few  preachers.  I  had  with  me:  B.  F.  Riley, 
President  of  Howard  College ;  George  Brewer,  John 
Purser,  pastor  of  Troy ;  Burr,  of  Columbia. 

Though  it  was  in  February,  or  March,  the  Lord  fa- 
vored us  with  the  best  of  weather  and  helped  us  win 
our  way  into  the  hearts  of  the  people.  All  went  well 
for  a  time,  then  we  met  with  a  rebufif ;  it  was  this  way: 
Getting  off  the  train  at  Ozark  about  dark,  we  heard  a 
voice  in  the  crowd  say:  "Is  there  any  preachers  here?" 
It  was  the  voice  of  a  tenant  from  Brother  Pippin^s 
farm  sent  with  a  wagon  to  meet  us.  After  getting 
out  a  little,  he  began  to  open  up :    "I  don't  know  what 

you  fellers  is  goin'  to  do  out  at church. 

At  the  conference  last  Saturday  they  voted  not  to 
have  the  Rally.  They  sed  they  never  hered  uv  a 
Baptist  Rally.  They'd  hered  uv  rallying  wild  hogs  in 
the  swamp,  but  no  body  ever  hered  uv  rallyin'  Bap- 
tists." "Why  did  Brother  Pippin  send  for  us  then?" 
was  asked.  "Well,"  said  he,  "old  man  Pippin,  aint 
easy  turned  down  when  he  takes  a  notion ;  so  Sunday 
evnin'  he  sends  round  to  the  members  houses  and  asked 
to  have  the  use  uv  the  house  and  grounds  for  Tues- 
day and  next  day  and  all  agreed.  Him  an'  his  boys 
an'  they  folks,  is  about  all  you  will  have.  He'll  feed 
you  shore,  but  tother  peeples  won't  be  ther. 

TTiat  was  the  first  set  back  we'd  had. 

Sure  enough  not  many  were  present,  but  the  pro- 
gramme was  carried  out  as  if  the  house  was  full.  At 
night  we  had  a  good  crowd,  next  day  many  more  and 
a  full  house  at  night.  The  last  day  I  said:  "We  have 
had  a  good  time  here,  we'd  be  glad  to  hear  from  you 
brethren.  Tell  us  what  you  think  of  a  Baptist  Rally." 
The  first  man,  fairly  sprung  to  his  feet  and  said:  "I 
want  to  be  the  first  to  speak,  for  I  am  the  man  who 
made  the  motion  last  Saturday  not  to  have  the  Rally. 
I  slipped  in  the  first  night,  I  was  ashamed  to  be  seen 
in  day  time,  until  today.  I  want  to  say  Brother  Crump- 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  311 

ton,  if  you  want  to  have  another  Rally  come   right 

along  to church.     I  am  sure  no  one  will  ever 

object  again."  Then  dear  old  Brother  Pippin  spoke  of 
his  great  enjoyment  of  the  meeting.  Then  the  Sec- 
retary spoke  about  as  follows  :  'That  first  morning  I 
went  off  in  the  woods  to  pray. 

God  gave  me  a  vision:  I  looked  at  the  branch  which 
had  been  following  its  tortuous  way  for  centuries — 
how  it  did  wind  about  through  the  woods.  One  great 
old  poplar,  had  stood  in  its  way  through  the  years, 
but  every  time  there  came  an  overflow,  the  stream 
would  flow  around  it,  sweeping  away  a  little  of  the 
soil  about  its  roots.  Its  power  to  dam  the  stream 
grew  less  with  every  flood  and  finally  it  fell  and  I 
saw  nothing  but  a  part  of  the  old  stump  left.  The 
stream  now  flows  through  a  new  channel  almost  en- 
tirely free  from  all  obstructions.  For  a  time  there 
were  live  roots  from  neighboring  trees  that  stretched 
across  the  new  made  channel,  but  almost  the  last  one 
has  been  broken  by  the  onrushing  stream  and  in  a  lit- 
tle while  the  last  will  be  gone  and  the  branch  will  go 
singing  on  its  way  to  the  sea.  That  is  what  I  saw 
when  I  was  meditating  after  my  prayer.  Then  I  mor- 
alized thus :  That  stream  is  the  missionary  force  God 
put  into  the  world  to  carry  His  gospel.  The  old  pop- 
lar was  the  Hardshells — they  call  themselves  Primi- 
tive Baptists,  that  means,  they  claim  to  be  the  first 
Baptists.  They  are  mighty  old,  but  they  were  not  the 
first.  I  want  you  to  read  about  their  first  church, 
turn  to  the  third  Epistle  of  John.  Diotrephes 
was  the  pastor;  he  wouldn't  receive  the  missionaries 
sent  forth  to  preach  among  the  Gentiles  and  he  would 
not  let  others  help  and  when  they  did,  he  turned  them 
out  of  the  church.  They  were  democratic  in  govern- 
ment, he  couldn't  have  turned  them  out  without  the 
majority  of  the  church  favored  it.  So  there  we  have 
an  account  in  the  New  Testament  of  the  first  Hard- 


312  A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

shell  church.  That's  going  back  a  long  way,  but  it  is 
some  distance  away  from  the  first  church.  But 
the  old  poplar  fell  and  so  the  Hardshells  are  get- 
ting out  of  the  way  fast.  Those  green  roots  I  saw  ex- 
tending themselves  across  the  new  channel,  are  the  An- 
ti-Missionary members  we  have  with  us  and  they  are 
fast  breaking.  Some  of  them,  thank  the  Lord,  are  being 
converted,  others  are  dying,  I  hope  the  Lord  will  save 
them — anyway,   they  are  disappearing  and   meetings 

like  this  we  have  held  here  at church, 

are  doing  the  work.  Baptists  have  always  had  as  big 
hearts  as  anybody.  Their  minds  must  be  directed  into 
right  channels  and  they  will  come  right  every  time." 
My,  what  upheavals  have  come  from  the  steady  flow- 
ing of  Gospel  stream !  Praise  the  Lord  for  the  work 
done  through  the  Baptist  Rallies. 

N.  C  Underwood  was  for  a  long  time,  pastor  at 
Brundidge.  He  was  a  tinner  by  trade.  I  do  not  know 
the  circumstances  that  led  him  into  the  ministry.  He 
was  a  remarkable  man  in  many  ways.  I  do  not  know 
what  educational  advantages  he  had,  but  he  used  good 
language  and  was  a  born  speaker.  He  did  not  dream 
of  his  power.  He  was  very  deliberate,  spoke  slowly 
but  distinctly,  with  an  emphasis  that  fastened  atten- 
tion from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  discourse, 
which  was  never  long.  He  studied  but  little,  but  ab- 
sorbed everything  he  heard  and  used  it  with  great 
force.  He  was  a"  born  wag  and  as  good  at  repartee  as 
an  Irishman.  I  undertook  to  advise  him  once.  I  said: 
"Underwood,  sit  right  still  now  until  I  tell  you  some- 
thing. You  have  no  idea  the  power  you  could  be  if 
you  would  study.  You  generally  get  home  on  Monday 
or  Tuesday  night.  You  ought  to  tell  your  wife  not  to 
let  anybody  disturb  you  before  noon ;  to  stand  guard 
and  let  you  have  every  morning  undisturbed  in  your 
study."  When  I  was  through  he  said.  'T  am  much 
obliged,  but  I  am  not  going  to  do  it,  for  if  I  tell  her 


A   BOOK    OF    MEMORIES.  313 

that,  she  will  make  me  do  it  and  I  don't  want  to  have  a 
row  in  the  family."  His  home,  with  his  wife  and  four 
daughters,  was  one  of  the  sweetest  I  was  ever  in. 
Preachers  are  noted  for  their  good  humor.  They  have 
good  reasons  to  be  happy;  but  in  the  days  of  which  I 
write,  jocularity  figured  too  strongly.  The  brother  who 
was  the  best  anecdotist  was  a  great  man.  Underwood 
never  forgot  a  good  joke  and,  out  of  the  pulpit,  he 
could  entertain  any  crowd  that  might  assemble.  The 
people  loved  "Nathe"  as  they  called  him,  and  a  royal 
man  was  taken  when  he  went  away. 

Capt.  John  T.  Davis  was  a  great  layman  in  his  day. 
Columbia  was  a  place  of  much  importance  on  the 
Chattahoochee,  right  at  the  corner  of  Georgia  and 
Florida,  before  the  railroad  came.  He  was  a  banker 
and  the  chief  man  of  the  town.  He  was  a  deacon  and 
the  Sunday  School  Superintendent.  He  was  proud 
of  his  town,  his  church  and  his  home.  Mother  Davis 
knew  how  to  make  a  home,  take  care  of  the  traveling 
preachers  and  see  to  it  that  her  pastor's  table  was 
equal  to  the  best.  Brother  Davis  was  Moderator  of 
his  Association  for  years — though  always  full  of  busi- 
ness, he  never  was  too  busy  to  attend  its  meetings. 
He  was  liberal  with  his  money.  He  sent  me  a  check 
for  $1,000.00  once.  It  frightened  me.  I  had  to  take 
off  my  glasses  and  rub  them  and  look  at  it  again 
to  see  if  I  had  not  made  a  mistake.  I  was  nervous 
all  day.  I  thought  at  first  the  Association  had  cer- 
tainly taken  up  a  great  collection  and  sent  it  by  the 
hand  of  the  Moderator ;  but  no,  I  discovered  by  fur- 
ther investigation  it  was  his  own  personal  gift.  Broth- 
er Davis  and  his  good  wife  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age 
and  left  a  family  to  be  proud  of. 

Ben  Forrester's  name  is  inseparably  connected  with 
the  Columbia  Association.  He  was  a  Baptist  *'from 
away  back."  He  didn't  take  to  new  methods,  espe- 
cially those  that  looked  to  the  gathering  of  money. 


314  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

He  was  the  Treasurer  of  an  Association,  great  in 
numbers  and  resources,  but  they  never  gave  him 
much  money  to  handle.  My  first  visit  to  his  church, 
Cow^arts,  w^as  at  the  Association.  My  home  was 
at  Uncle  Ben's.  Cotton  bales  were  piled  in  the 
yard  and  outside — much  of  it  from  the  crop 
of  the  year  before.  I  learned  that  it  was  his 
habit  to  hold  cotton  until  March  before  he  sold.  Speak- 
ing of  missions  he  said :  "They  got  up  a  scheme  last 
year  to  get  ten  cents  a  head  from  every  member. 
Some  said  we'd  never  get  it,  but  I  told  them  to  put 
Cowarts  church  down,  I'd  pay  it,  if  it  weren't  sent  up. 
I  went  up  Saturday  and  paid  up  what  was  lacking." 
Think  of  it!  Ten  cents  a  head!  I  said:  ''Brother 
Forrester,  I  believe  I  will  make  a  prophecy.  Five  years 
from  now  this  church  will  have  a  preacher  living  in  a 
pastor's  home  right  here,  preaching  two  Sundays  in 
the  month.  You  will  be  paying  him  $500.00  and  giving 
$500.00  more  for  Missions."  Whereupon  "mine  host" 
said,  in  his  stentorian  voice :  *Ts  there  another  church 
in  this  State  named  'Cowarts?'  I  am  sure  you  are 
not  talking  about  this  little,  piney  woods  church  up 
here."  Uncle  Ben,  as  they  called  him,  was  a  liberal 
supporter  of  his  church,  but  he  never  got  over  his 
Hardshell  raising  about  missions.  He  was  in  the 
Legislature  from  his  county  once  and  served  them 
well.  Speaking  of  his  holding  his  cotton  crop  until 
March — this  was  told  on  him :  In  the  days  of  the  gold 
and  silver  discussion.  Uncle  Ben  was  strong  for  sil- 
ver. He  sold  his  holdings,  maybe  250  bales,  at  Do- 
than.  To  test  his  faith  in  the  white  metal,  the  buyer 
offered  him  silver  in  pay,  which  he  readily  accepted. 
He  loaded  it  in  a  two-horse  wagon,  took  his  seat 
Avith  the  driver,  with  a  double-barrel  gun  across  his 
lap,  and  drove  thirty  miles  away  to  Columbia  and 
deposited  it  in  the  Davis  bank. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  315 

CHAPTER  2. 

A  great  character  little  known  outside  of  South- 
east Alabama  was  : 

Doctor  A.  L.  Martin.  The  few  times  I  was  with 
him,  I  learned  greatly  to  appreciate  him. 

After  a  great  struggle  with  poverty  in  his  youth, 
by  dint  of  industry  and  honesty,  he  won  his  way  first 
on  the  farm.  He  studied  medicine.  After  two 
years  training  in  school  he  secured  a  diploma 
at  Augusta,  Georgia,  and  gave  himself  to  prac- 
ticing and  farming  and  merchandising,  and  later 
still,  he  added  preaching.  After  a  time  he  gave 
up  practice,  and  all  over  Henry  and  adjoining  coun- 
ties, he  was  known  as  a  defender  of  the  faith  of  the 
people  called  Missionary  Baptists.  His  extreme  deaf- 
ness was  a  handicap  to  his  usefulness.  The  hard  doc- 
trines of  the  Bible  were  very  dear  to  him.  Calvin 
believed  them  no  stronger  than  he.  He  was  an  in- 
tense Missionary,  but  lived  in  a  country  where  the 
great  masses  of  the  people  gave  little  money  to  the 
cause.  He  made  by  preaching,  intense  Baptists. 
Strange  that  the  same  earnestness  for  missions  didn't 
make  practical  missionaries  among  the  people. 

Doctor  Martin  was  of  the  J.  R.  Graves  type  of 
Baptists  and  made  a  practice  of  cleaning  up  the  Pedo- 
baptists  in  every  sermon. 

At  one  of  the  Baptist  Rallies,  I  announced  before 
adjournment,  we  would  take  a  collection  that  night. 
I  wished  all  to  come  prepared  to  give.  Doctor  Mar- 
tin not  hearing  a  word  I  said,  announced  that 
he  would  preach  at  a  private  home  a  mile 
or  two  away.  The  next  morning,  the  visiting  preach- 
ers and  I  saw  him  coming.  I  remarked:  'T  am  going 
to  tell  him  he  ran  away  from  a  collection."  As  he  ap- 
proached, without  salutation,  he  walked  straight  to 
me,  remarking:  "Crumpton,  a  thing  like  this  you  are 


316  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

running  can't  get  along  without  money.  Here's  to 
help  you,"  and  he  put  a  ten  dollar  gold-piece  in  my 
hand,  almost  as  much  as  the  whole  congregation  gave 
the  night  before.  I  felt  as  mean  as  a  dog,  to  have  sug- 
gested even  as  a  joke,  he  was  running  away  from 
a  collection.  The  boys  never  told  on  me,  and  he 
never  knew  it.  If  Doctor  Martin  had  had  his  hear- 
ing, he  would  have  been  the  peer  of  any  preacher  in 
the  State.  I  heard  him  deliver  some  great  sermons. 
Note  how  many  of  the  old-time  preachers  were  sec- 
ularized. We  are  not  favorable  to  a  secularized  min- 
istry now,  but  they  saved  the  day  for  the  Baptists  in 
the  rural  sections  of  the  South.  Brother  Martin  had 
two  sons  to  follow  him  in  the  ministry. 

Pitt  Calloway:  Known  principally  in  Barbour,  Dale 
and  Coffee  Counties,  was  a  great  man  in  his  day.  Once 
a  merchant,  then  a  farmer  on  an  extensive  scale,  and 
a  popular  preacher  besides.  When  I  first  met  him,  he 
was  living  at  Newton,  retired  from  the  ministry,  loved 
and  respected  by  all  who  knew  him.  More  than  once 
he  represented  his  county  in  the  Legislature. 

He  raised  a  large  family  of  devoted  children,  every 
one  of  them  Baptists.  His  only  son,  Pitt,  Junior,  and 
his  grandsons,  Pitt  and  J.  W.  Jones  and  W.  R.  Ivey 
all  are  preachers.  Most  of  these  old  preachers  had 
comfortable  homes,  with  faithful  slaves  to  cultivate 
their  farms  while  they  gave  their  lives  to  preaching 
the  Gospel.  They  did  it  for  the  love  of  it,  receiving 
almost  no  compensation  at   all. 

Brethren  Deal  and  Poyner  were  two  other  good 
men  I  call  to  mind  in  the  Wiregrass,  but  I  am  not 
sufficiently  acquainted  with  their  labors  to  write  of 
them. 

Newton,  The  Gem  of  the  Wiregrass,  I  call  it ;  not 
because  of  the  town  so  much  as  the  Baptist  Colle- 
giate Institute,  there  located.  To  be  candid:  It  is  the 
child  of  denominational  rivalrv.     It  came  about  this 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  317 

way:  The  Methodists  fixed  on  Newton  as  a  good  place 
to  locate  a  high  school.  No  finer  spot  could  be  found. 
A  fine  community,  boasting  of  its  good  health,  fine 
water  and  good  morals — a  strong  prohibition  senti- 
ment prevailing.  After  they  had  taught  a  school 
successfully  for  a  couple  of  years,  AUie  Jones,  a  Bap- 
tist deacon,  made  a  speech  like  this  to  his  fellow  Bap- 
tists :  "This  is  a  Baptist  community.  If  there  is 
to  be  a  high  school  here,  why  should  it  not  be  a  Bap- 
tist school?  We  have  the  money  and  the  pupils.  The 
surroundinng  country  is  Baptist,  too.  We  have  no 
objection  to  the  Methodists  having  a  school  where 
they  will,  but  we  must  have  a  Baptist  School  in  New- 
ton." That  speech  was  enough.  The  money  was 
raised.  A.  W.  Tate,  a  born  teacher,  was  employed, 
and  a  school  started.  Finally  the  Methodists  sold  out 
their  property  and  the  Baptists  have  a  great  school 
there  now.  Before  anybody  calls  that  mean  in  the 
Baptists,  I  advise  them  to  think.  If  the  statement  of 
the  Brother  in  his  speech  is  correct,  it  was  all  that 
was  left  for  the  ^Baptists  to  do.  For  years  Tate  main- 
tained a  first-class  school,  belonging  to  the  Newton 
church.  Finally  it  was  given  to  the  Baptist  State 
Convention.  I  could  write  a  book  about  its  misfor- 
tunes, but  it  has  battled  along  in  spite  of  fires  and 
finances  and  will  live  to  bless  not  only  that  section, 
but  the  wide  world. 

At  one  time,  almost  every  public  school  teacher 
in  half  a  dozen  counties  in  that  section,  was  a  Newton 
trained  student.  The  leaders  in  many  of  the  churches 
including  the  preachers,  got  their  training  there.  As 
a  feeder  to  Howard  and  Judson,  it  has  demonstrated 
its  value.  Some  of  the  best  preachers  of  the  denomi- 
nation, graduating  later  at  the  Howard,  got  their  in- 
spiration at  Newton — W.  P.  Wilkes,  W.  H.  Tew,  J. 
Allen  Smith,  the  Williams  boys,  three  of  them,  and 
many  others.     A.  W.  Tate,  the   founder  of  Newton 


318  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

School,  had  sympathy  for  poor  boys  and  girls.  If 
they  had  no  money,  but  were  ambitious,  he  managed 
somehow  to  keep  them  in  School.  The  Secondary 
Christian  Schools  should  be  encouraged.  The  future 
of  denominational  life  depends  upon  them.  Our  lead- 
ers better  ponder  that  suggestion  well. 

Of  all  the  towns,  some  of  them  fast  growing  into 
cities,  in  South  Alabama,  I  could  write  a  story,  for 
I  have  knoAvn  most  of  them  from  their  beginning. 

The  policy  of  the  Board  has  been  to  look  after  the 
centers.  That  is  the  New  Testament  way.  Indeed,  it 
is  the  only  way.  The  plan  for  strong  men  to  be  sup- 
ported at  the  centers,  extending  their  influence  and 
the  influences  of  their  churches  out  into  the  sur- 
rounding country,  cannot  be  improved  upon.  It  al- 
ways works  out  successfully  if  the  right  men  are 
secured  and  if  they  remain  long  enough  to  make 
themselves  felt.  The  spirit  of  change  in  the  people,  or 
in  the  preacher,  makes  changes  that  are  hurtful  to 
the  cause.  True,  sometimes  a  church  in  the  center 
may  become  a  menace  to  the  churches  in  the  country, 
but  that  is  seldom  the  case. 

The  best  possible  work  for  the  Boards  to  do  for 
the  country  churches  is  through  Colportage  and 
Evangelism. 

P.  L.  Mosley — Everybody  calls  him  "Pope" — is  yet 
in  active  work,  but  I  must  say  something  about  him. 
He  was  baptized  by  B.  H.  Crumpton  into  the  fellow- 
ship of  old  Providence  in  Dallas.  His  mother  and 
sisters  were  members  but  his  father  was  a  good- 
natured  Hardshell  .  Pope  attended  Howard  Col- 
lege and  then  went  to  Covington  County.  He 
has  been  one  of  the  most  useful  and  widely 
known  men  in  that  section.  He  was  sent  by 
his  County  to  the  State  Senate  once,  where 
he  served  well  his  people.  He  occasionally  goes  to  the 
State  Convention,  but  for  the  most  part  his  ministry 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  319 

has  been  confined  to  a  few  Counties  in  this  section. 
He  knows  the  Bible  and  probably  uses  it  more  freely 
in  preaching  than  any  man  in  the  State.  His  ministry 
has  been  eminently  successful  in  building  up  churches 
and  he  has,  in  the  main,  "lived  of  the  Gospel."  Raised 
a  Hardshell,  he  has  been  skittish  on  the  subject  of 
money.  "I  preach  missions  and  the  duty  to  give 
money,"  he  often  said  to  me.  But  I  replied,  "You 
don't  take  collections  and  introduce  money  collect- 
ing methods."  How  many  preachers  I  have  known 
to  do  like  Pope. 

What  Pope  lacked  along  this  line,  maybe  he  made 
up  in  others,  so  there  may  be  an  evening  up  with  us 
all,  at  the  last.  His  old  Hardshell  father  and  I  were 
great  friends.  Once  I  put  it  to  him  this  way :  "You 
are  a  Missionary  and  Pll  prove  it  and  make  you  ac- 
knowledge it.  The  Foreign  Mission  Journal,  your 
children  bring  home  every  month.  You  are  a  read- 
ing man.  I  am  sure  you  sometimes  read  it.  When 
you  read  of  a  missionary  attending  the  bedside  of  a 
converted  heathen  and  seeing  him  die  like  Christians 
die,  aren't  you  glad?"  His  reply  was:  "I  don't  be- 
lieve everything  I  see  in  the  Furrin  Mission  Journal." 
"Well,"  I  said,  "Pll  put  it  this  way:  You  wouldn't  ever 
hear  me  preach  if  you  did  not  believe  I  was  truthful. 
Suppose  I  should  go  to  China  and  after  a  term  of 
years,  I  should  come  here  and  spend  the  day  with 
you.  Of  course,  I  would  tell  you  much  of  my  work. 
Suppose  I  tell  you  of  the  Chinese  hearing  the  very 
same  gospel  I  preach  here  at  Providence.  It  affects 
them  just  the  same  as  it  does  here.  Some  reject  it, 
but  some  accept  it,  relate  an  experince  of  trust  in 
the  finished  work  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  watch  their  lives 
and  they  are  as  consistent  as  Christians  here.  Finally, 
I  tell  of  some  of  them  dying,  rejoicing  in  the  hope. 
Honest  Injun,  wouldn't  you  be  glad?"  Drawling  out 
his  "Y — e — s,"  haltingly,  I   said:  "Come  out  of  that 


320  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

and  give  me  a  straight  out,  honest  yes,"  and  out  it 
came :  "Yes,  of  course,  I  would." 

I  said:  "A  rose  smells  as  sweet,  called  by  some 
other  name ;  you  may  call  that  what  you  please,  but  I 
call  it  the  missionary  spirit."  And  so  it  was  with  this 
good  man,  though  he  was  loth  to  acknowledge  it. 

A  Christian  must  be,  will  be,  can't  keep  from  being, 
a  missionary. 

Alexander  T.  Sims  is  another  man  yet  living  of  whom 
I  must  say  a  word.  For  straight-along,  consistent, 
consecrated  work  in  the  Ministry,  he  will  measure  up 
with  the  best.  Born  in  Butler  county  in  1849,  con- 
verted at  seventeen,  he  began  preaching  at  twenty. 
He  didn't  attend  College,  but  he  either  got  with  good 
teachers  or  mastered  books  at  home,  for  he  had  a 
command  of  good  English,  far  above  the  average.  A 
singular  thing  is  related  about  his  birth.  His  father, 
who  was  not  a  Christian,  after  a  severe  spell  of  sick- 
ness, was  brought  back  from  the  gates  of  death  and 
told  his  wife  that  her  next  child  should  be  a  boy,  be- 
come a  public  man  and  would  bring  a  great  blessing 
in  some  way  to  him.  The  faithfulness  of  the  boy  to 
his  church,  walking  for  miles  to  the  service,  and  his 
consistent  life,  impressed  the  father  and  led  him  to 
Christ.  J.  C.  Jones,  father  of  Dr.  C.  C.  Jones  of  East 
Lake,  was  missionary  of  the  Pine  Barren  Association. 
Under  his  preaching  A.  T.  Sims  became  a  Christian. 
Three  years  later  he  became  a  preacher  and  fell  into  a 
fine  field,  his  home  church.  Forest  Home,  being  one  of 
them.  It  was  entirely  a  country  field,  and  for  ten 
years  he  remained  on  his  job,  baptizing  hundreds  into 
the  membership  of  the  churches.  When  W.  G.  Curry, 
one  of  the  State  Board's  EvangeHsts,  resigned,  he  rec- 
ommended Sims,  who  for  eleven  years  traveled  nine 
counties  in  Alabama  and  three  in  Florida.  Surely  the 
father's  prophecy  before  his  birth  was  fulfilled;  the 
boy  had  proven  "a  great  blessing"  to  the  father  and 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  321 

was  much  of  "a  public  man."  Some  of  the  quotations 
from  his  diary  sound  much  like  the  incidents  related 
in  the  New  Testament.  Here  is  one :  "During  the 
past  month  I  have  been  laboring  in  a  semi-heathen 
section  of  country,  bordering  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The 
work  assumed  a  revival  character  at  a  number  of 
places  and  I  am  happy  to  report  that  more  than  fifty 
souls  have  been  saved  in  the  meetings  held." 

"Fifteen  came  out  on  the  Lord's  side  at  Milligan, 
Florida. .  The  work  here  owes  its  success  mainly  to 
the  devotion  and  skill  of  one  Christian  lady." 

"At  Rocky  Bayou,  a  Sunday  School  was  organized 
and  equipped.  A  converted  sailor  was  made  Superin- 
tendent, who  gave  every  cent  of  money,  $3,  he  had 
to  purchase  the  supplies.  The  story  of  this  once  des- 
perately wicked  sailor  is  too  interesting  to  be  omitted. 
He  owned  a  schooner.  One  day  while  encountering 
a  severe  gale,  he  was  giving  vent  to  most  horrible 
oaths  as  usual.  A  flash  of  lightning  tore  into  splinters 
the  foremast  of  his  boat.  This  only  increased  his 
rage  and  in  his  blindness  he  began  to  curse  his  Maker. 
An  angry  thunderbolt  tore  into  atoms  the  mainmast 
and  dashed  the  blasphemer  helpless  and  unconscious 
down  upon  the  deck.  When  consciousness  returned, 
terrified  and  alarmed,  he  cried  for  mercy.  He  who 
never  denies  mercy  to  the  penitent  sinner,  heard  his 
cry  and  granted  pardon  and  salvation,  to  his  man 
who  is  now  a  burden-bearing  Christian."  Better  still 
grows  the  story:  A  few  years  later  the  missionary 
returned  to  Rocky  Bayou.  He  found  that  the  con- 
verted sailor  went  from  the  superintendency  of  the 
Sunday  School  into  the  ministry. 

Old  home  ties  called  Sims,  after  his  long  service 
with  the  Board,  back  to  his  old  range  where  for  a 
time  he  served  Forest  Home  and  Pine  Apple.  Later 
for  six  years  he  was  pastor  at  Prattville  and  while 


322  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

there  the  splendid  structure  where  the  church  now 
worships,  was  erected. 

Numbers  of  churches  in  South  Alabama  and  Flor- 
ida have  been  blessed  with  his  ministrations.  Not 
many  men  have  baptized  more  converts  than  has  Sims. 
In  all  the  work  of  the  denomination  his  heart  has 
beat  true  and  his  helping  hand  has  been  cheerfully 
extended.  What  a  tower  of  strength  he  has  been 
and  how  he  will  be  missed  when  God  calls  him ! 

See  how  God  works !  A  country  Association  sends 
out  a  missionary,  maybe  for  only  a  few  months  ;  a  mod- 
est, unpretentious  soul  was  he.  He  was  to  bring  into 
the  kingdom,  forces  that  should  carry  it  on  after  he 
is  gone.  One  of  his  converts,  a  modest  boy,  in  a 
little  while  takes  up  his  task  and  outstrips  the  man 
who  called  him  in.  Later,  another  servant  comes 
along  and  is  used  to  put  him  in  a  larger  work — so  it 
goes  on  from  generation  to  generation. 

The  Lord  be  praised  for  the  like  of  this  good  man ! 
He  is  now  in  Florida,  doubtless  doing  as  good  work 
as  in  any  period  of  his  life. 

FIFTY  YEARS  IN  THE  MINISTRY  will  soon  be 
recorded  of  him.  What  currents  he  has  set  going  in 
that  half  century  for  God  and  humanity ! 

CHAPTER  3. 

Bethlehem  Association  was  the  first  Association  in 
the  state.  It  covered  pretty  much  all  of  South  Ala- 
bama. My  first  visit  was  after  it  had  become  very 
much  reduced  in  size.  It  extended  over  what  was  to 
be  some  of  the  finest  territory  in  the  State,  covered 
with  pine  forests :  Conecuh,  Monroe,  Escambia  and 
Baldwin  counties. 

The  Moderator,  whom  I  knew  well,  was  a  little  cut- 
ting in  his  remarks  in  introducing  me.  Said  he : 
"Brother  Crumpton  is  our  Corresponding  Secretary. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  323 

I  am  glad  he  has  found  us  out  and  come  into  this  much 
neglected  spot  in  Alabama.  We  have  not  received 
the  attention  we  deserve,  but  now  he  is  here,  I  hope 
he  will  find  out  something  about  us."  Of  course,  that 
sort  of  talk,  brought  on  more  talk.  I  explained,  for 
one  thing,  I  had  never  heard  from  this  awfully  neg- 
lected spot  and  was  never  invited  to  come  and  see. 
I  don't  usually  wait  for  invitations,  but  when  a  man 
has  more  places  to  go  than  is  possible,  it  is  very  nat- 
ural for  him  to  decide  on  those  places  where  he  has 
been  informed  about.  I  doubt  not  I  would  have  been 
here  earlier  if  I  could  have  seen  a  letter  on  my  desk 
from  the  Moderator,  or  some  interested  brother,  ask- 
ing me  to  make  a  visit  here."  The  Moderator  squirm- 
ed while  I  was  speaking,  but  said  little  in  reply. 

When  I  was  through,  a  fine  looking,  handsome  old 
man  arose,  shook  my  hand  cordially  and  said :  "I  for 
one  am  proud  to  greet  the  Secretary  and  I  am  sure 
I  voice  the  sentiment  of  every  delegate  in  the  house. 
We  know  what  a  task  is  his  and  feel  sure  he  is  doing 
all  in  his  power  to  meet  the  demands  upon  him.  I 
want  to  tell  you,  Brother  Secretary,  there  is  not  a 
foot  of  destitution  in  all  this  territory,  that  cannot 
be  met  by  preachers  of  this  Association,  if  they  will 
take  hold  of  it.  I  don't  want  to  brag  on  myself,  but 
use  my  habit  only  as  an  illustration.  I  am  serving 
four  churches  and  preaching  to  several  mission  sta- 
tions, as  I  go  and  come  from  my  appointments.  I 
take  them  in,  Friday  and  Saturday  nights  and  Sunday 
afternoons.  In  the  summer  I  hold  meetings  at  these 
points  and  several  churches  are  represented  here 
which  were  built  up  just  that  way.  That  was  all  done 
without  one  cent  of  expense  from  the  Mission  Board." 
That  preacher  proved  to  be  Brother  J.  A.  Lambert. 
What  a  man  was  he,  all  the  days  of  his  useful  life ! 
The  Moderator  remarked  after  that  speech :  "I  am 
not  going  to  do  that  sort  of  work  without  pay." 


324  A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Lambert's  ponies  were  known  far  and  near  and 
they  wheeled  the  old  man  about  all  over  Baldwin 
and  Monroe  counties. 

His  son,  Shomore,  has  been  just  as  consecrated  as 
his  father,  except  he  has  served  as  County  Superin- 
tendent of  Education,  which  has  prevented  his  giving 
his  whole  time  to  the  work. 

Father  Robert  Carson,  when  I  was  a  boy,  had  about 
quit  preaching,  but  his  life  was  unblemished,  and  he 
was  held  in  high  esteem.  J.  E.  Barnes,  now  pastor 
of  the  Central  Church  in  Mobile,  a  most  useful  preach- 
er, is  his  grandson. 

A  story  is  told  of  Father  Carson  when  he  was  pas- 
tor of  Town  Creek  church.  Its  membership  was 
large,  composed  mostly  of  planters,  most  of  whom 
owned  slaves.  At  an  October  meeting,  the  pastor  an- 
nounced before  adjournment:  "Brethren,  I  feel  the 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  with  us,  and  I  feel  impelled  to 
begin  a  meeting  tomorrow,  so  let  everybody  arrange 
to  come  for  two  services  a  day  for  the  next  week." 
The  members  were  taken  by  surprise.  The  fields  were 
white  with  cotton,  and  everybody  rushing  to  get  the 
great  crop  taken  care  of  before  the  severe  weather  of 
winter  could  come  on.  Old  Deacon  Freeman  Hardy, 
after  dismission,  was  the  first  to  protest  against  the 
unheard  of  thing.  No  one  ever  heard  of  a  meeting 
except  in  the  Summer,  after  the  crops  were  laid  by. 
"All  right,"  was  the  quiet  remark  of  the  old  pastor, 
in  reply  to  the  rather  hot  remarks  of  the  deacon.  "We 
would  be  glad  to  see  all,  if  they  can  come.  If  they 
cannot  come,  we  hope  they  will  pray  for  us."  Next 
morning,  every  negro  and  the  sons  of  the  deacon 
went  into  the  cotton  field,  and  the  deacon  had  the 
pouts.  He  told  about  it  later.  "When  I  rode  out  into 
the  plantation,  somehow  my  horse's  head  turned 
toward  the  church.  At  11  o'clock  I  hitched  at  the 
accustomed  swinging  limb  and  walked  into  the  church 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  325 

out  of  humor.  Father  Carson  was  never  a  great 
preacher,  but  it  seemed  to  me  his  sermon  was  espe- 
cially good.  I  told  the  boys  that  night,  to  get  out 
early  in  the  morning  and  pick  cotton,  one  of  them  to 
come  back  in  time  to  drive  their  mother  and  sisters 
to  the  church  in  the  carriage,  and  the  others  to  go 
on  horseback.  The  meeting  was  better  that  day. 
That  night  I  sent  word  to  all  the  negroes  to  get  out 
early  next  morning  and  pick  cotton  until  about  10 
o'clock,  then  run  to  their  cabins,  put  on  clean  clothes, 
and  go  to  church,  getting  back  in  the  afternoon  as 
soon  as   possible." 

From  the   start,  the  meeting  was  a  revival.     The 
preacher   was    right:    "The    Lord    was    there."      The 
oldest   inhabitant   in   the   Town   Creek   neighborhood 
will  tell  you,  it  was  the  greatest  meeting  ever  held. 
Brother   Hardy's   children  were   all   converted   and  a 
great  number  of  his  slaves.     I  relate  this  remarkable 
instance  to  impress  the  thought :  There  is  a  time  when 
the  Lord  is  present  with  His  people,  though  nothing 
human  seems  to  indicate  it,   and   at   such   time,   the 
leader  may  confidently  put  in  motion  such  agencies 
as  he  may  have  and  the  Lord  will  not  disappoint  him. 
Matthew  Bishop,  of  Lowndes  County  was  one  of  the 
first  graduates  of  Howard  College.     Settling  on  the 
farm,  maybe  as  the  owner  of  a  few  slaves,  he  served 
churches  in  Lowndes,  Dallas,  Butler  and  Montgomery 
Counties.     He  easily  became  a  leading  figure  in  the 
Alabama  Association.    He  was  a  Baptist  of  the  deep- 
est dye   and  gave   the   Pedo   Baptists   much   trouble, 
whose  logic  they  were  unable  to  withstand.     David 
Lee,  later  known  as  "Father  Lee,"  for   many  years 
Moderator  of  the  Alabama  Association,  set  the  pace 
for  all  the   country  preachers   as   to  manner  of  life. 
He   was    a    crack    farmer    and   they    followed    in    his 
wake ;  he  preached  without  salary — serving  old  Hope- 
well (Mt.  Willing)  35  years  without  a  cent  of  remu- 


326  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

neration.  After  the  war,  which  brought  freedom  to 
the  slaves,  probably  Brother  Bishop  got  his  consent 
to  accept  a  salary,  but  it  was  very  small.  The  Civil 
War  brought  other  changes:  The  delegates  could  not 
give  the  time  for  the  long  trips,  so  new  and  smaller 
Associations  began  to  be  formed.  The  Montgom- 
ery, Selma,  Butler  and  finally  Crenshaw  came  out, 
almost  breaking  up  the  old  Alabama.  After  Brother 
Lee  passed  away,  Brother  Bishop  was  re-enforced 
by  the  ordination  of  Brother  George  McQueen,  a  good 
deacon,  who  owned  a  good  farm.  More  than  once 
I  heard  it  said :  "Brother  Bishop  spoiled  a  good  dea- 
con in  making  Brother  George  a  preacher."  They  be- 
came yoke  fellows  in  the  Association.  Brother  Mc- 
Queen developed  into  a  good  preacher,  universally 
loved. 

Under  the  influence  of  a  layman  or  two,  who  had 
studied  politics,  the  Alabama  fell  out  with  T.  M. 
Bailey  and  the  State  Board  of  Missions.  They  were 
in  this  state  of  opposition  when  I  became  Secretary 
of  the  Board.  When  I  announced  my  purpose  to 
visit  their  next  session,  a  brother  protested  that  they 
had  treated  my  predecessor  badly,  had  passed  some 
ugly  resolutions  against  co-operation  and  probably 
their  fire  would  be  turned  against  me.  On  the  theory 
that  it  was  my  business  to  find  the  reasons  for  oppo- 
sition and  if  possible  remove  them,  I  went.  The 
preachers  who  were  bell-weathers,  were  too  good  to 
cherish  malice — fact  is,  I  think  they  had  been  on  the 
lookout  for  a  good  place  to  get  down  on  the  right  side 
of  the  fence.  I  was  welcomed  and  given  a  good  hear- 
ing and  ever  after  had  the  hand  of  welcome.  As  I 
write  these  lines,  January  20,  1920,  I  call  to  mind 
the  sad  events  of  last  fall.  October  10,  11  and  12 
were  the  days  selected  for  the  100th  anniversary  of 
the  Old  Alabama.  I  had  encouraged  the  brethren  to 
undertaken   the   celebration  at   Spring   Bank.     I  was 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  327 

there  on  the  10th  and  11th.  Secretary  Yarborough 
was  scheduled  for  Sunday,  the  great  day  of  the  feast. 
The  Moderator  was  to  be  present  as  custodian  of  all 
the  historical  information,  which  had  been  entrusted 
to  him.  But  alas,  all  these  plans  went  wrong.  There 
was  not  a  preacher  on  the  ground  to  meet  the  largest 
congregation  that  had  ever  assembled.  Only  Jake 
Bishop,  a  son  of  Matthew,  one  of  the  old  leaders, 
talked  of  the  long  ago.  There  is  not  an  ordained 
preacher  living  within  the  bounds  of  the  Association 
and  the  consuming  question  is :  "Shall  we  break  up 
the  Old  Alabama?"  A  question  easier  asked  than 
answered.  If  the  old  heroes,  who  lived  and  wrought 
and  suffered  for  the  kingdom,  in  the  Old  Alabama,  in 
the  past  century  could  be  written  up,  it  would  be 
a  story  worth  reading.  Unfortunately,  material  that 
was  gotten  first  and  last,  was  never  preserved.  More 
than  once  Brother  David  Lee  was  said  to  possess  val- 
uable matter  which  the  Association  had  asked  of  him, 
but  it  disappeared  with  its  author.  A  sad  thing  about 
it  is :  Baptists  are  no  more  inclined  today  than  in 
past  years  to  value  historic  matter.  Numbers  of 
times  I  have  written  leaders  of  churches  and  Associa- 
tions, begging  them  to  observe  suitably  approaching 
centennials,  but  in  most  cases  it  elicited  no  interest. 
Brother  William  Prichett,  I  became  acquainted  with 
at  Aberfoil,  Bullock  Co.  He  was  large  of  body  and 
of  heart.  In  the  early  days,  Salem  Association  cov- 
ered most  of  Southeast  Alabama  and  extended  down 
into  Florida.  Brother  Prichett  was  employed  jointly 
by  the  Home  Mission  Board  and  his  Association,  to 
spy  out  the  land.  Everybody  was  his  friend,  he  was 
welcomed  into  every  home.  While  he  was  not  a  gifted 
speaker  he  served  as  a  connecting  link  between  the 
Missionary  forces  and  the  most  distressingly  needy 
fields  in  the  States.  George  Kierce  was  another  faith- 
ful one  in  the  neighboring  community  with  Brother 


328  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Prichett,  but  somewhat  younger.  He  had  seen  more 
of  the  world  too.  He  was  a  Lieutenant  at  the  siege 
of  Vicksburg.  The  stories  they  could  tell  about  the 
ravages  of  sin  and  the  power  of  the  Gospel  in  a 
wretchedly  poor  and  ignorant  country  were  equal 
to  the  New  Testament  stories.  Old  and  crippled, 
Brother  Kierce  adhered  to  the  purpose  of  preparing  a 
story  of  his  life.  This,  I  encouraged  him  to  do,  and, 
probably  a  year  before  his  death,  his  purpose  was  ac- 
complished. I  made  the  contract  with  the  printers, 
read  the  proof  and  the  old  man  lived  to  see  many  of 
his  booklets  in  the  hands  of  the  people.  The  Baptists 
in  Southeast  and  South  Alabama  and  Northern  Florida 
now  occupy  the  most  flourishing  section  of  the  State, 
little  dreaming  of  what  they  owe  to  these  old  pioneer 
heroes,  who,  against  terrific  odds,  represented  their 
cause  in  these  parts.  Their  preaching  would  not  be 
tolerated  today,  but  their  childish  simplicity,  their  lov- 
ing heart-service  and  their  endurance  for  the  gos- 
pel's sake  won  the  people  of  that  day  and  the  results 
are  glorious. 

Coming  back  to  my  old  stamping  ground  I  speak 
of  Miles  McWilliams,  the  man  who  baptized  me.  I 
was  only  a  thoughtless  boy  in  those  days  and  knew 
but  little  of  him.  I  saw  him  at  the  monthly  meet- 
ings, when  he  came  from  his  farm,  about  six  miles 
away,  to  old  Friendship  at,  what  is  now.  Pine  Apple. 
At  the  annual  protracted  meeting  he  baptized  my  fa- 
ther, two  sisters,  a  brother  and  myself.  It  was  prob- 
ably in  1855.  The  pastor's  plantation  was  near  Mc- 
Williams  station,  named  in  his  honor.  Saturday  be- 
fore the  fourth  Sunday  was  the  conference  day,  when 
business  was  attended  to.  For  the  most  part,  this 
consisted  in  trying  to  keep  the  run  of  the  brethren. 
If  one  failed  to  be  present  at  the  business  meeting  two 
Saturdays,  a  committee  was  appointed  to  wait  on 
him.     After  preaching  on    that    day,    generally    the 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  329 

preacher  returned  home  and  came  back  on  Sunday 
morning.  If  the  weather  was  fine,  great  congrega- 
tions filled  the  house.  There  was  no  thought  of  a 
Sunday  School,  or  Prayer  Meeeting,  or  a  mission 
collection.  To  have  mentioned  them  would  have  met 
with  serious  objection,  insistence  would  have  split  the 
Church. 

Brother  McWilliams  was,  I  am  sure,  above  the 
average  preacher  of  his  day  in  preaching  ability.  His 
field  of  labor,  I  guess  extended  many  miles  around  him. 
The  same  old  building  is  standing  today  at  Pine  Apple, 
only  changed  around,  ceiled  and  painted.  It  is  a  mile  or 
more  from  the  village,  the  most  of  the  people  live 
there  and  beyond.  Every  time  they  have  a  new  preach- 
er the  question  of  removal  comes  up,  but  unless  a 
cyclone  or  fire  intervenes,  the  graveyard  will  hold 
it  till  Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet. 

D.  W.  Ramsey:  The  long-time  pastor  is  the  next  I 
mention.  He  w^as  the  son  of  a  fervent  Methodist 
preacher  at  Oak  Hill.  He  married  the  daughter  of 
J.  R.  Hawthorn,  of  Pine  Apple. 

In  his  younger  days,  he  had  fallen  into  an  ugly 
habit,  which  was  a  great  handicap  to  him  in  after 
years,  being  doubtless  the  cause  of  his  extreme  nerv- 
ousness. No  one  except  a  conscientious,  sensitive 
soul  like  his,  can  enter  fully  into  sympathy  with  his 
sufferings,  but  he  was  a  man,  and  fought  it  out  w^ith 
God,   and  through   grace   overcame. 

He  was  for  many  years  Moderator  of  the  Pine  Bar- 
ren Association.  It  w^as  in  this  capacity  I  knew  him 
best.  When  I  was  Secretary  of  the  Mission  Board, 
I  called  the  Pine  Barren  "My  Home  Association"  and 
tried  to  attend  regularly  its  annual  sessions. 

To  a  stranger,  one  would  have  taken  the  Moderator 
to  be  offensively  harsh.  He  didn't  mind  snapping  a 
speaker  off  in  a  brusque  way ;  but  the  brethren  loved 
him,  and  were  ready  to  excuse  his   every   fault.     It 


330  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

was  beautiful  to  see  their  patience  and  forebearance. 

He  was  faithful  to  the  work  of  the  ministry  as 
long  as  he  could  reach  his  appointments.  He  was  a 
physician  in  the  beginning  of  his  ministry,  but  for 
most  part  he  gave  his  best  service  to  the  work  of 
the  ministry. 

I  must  name  the  preacher  I  knew  first,  in  the  be- 
ginning of  my  care  of  churches.  Without  education 
himself,  he  believed  in  and  encouraged  Minis- 
terial Education.  The  educated,  who  had  the  good 
fortune  to  come  in  contact  with  him,  loved  to  sit  at 
his  feet  and  learn  wisdom.  The  most  interesting 
character  I  ever  knew  was — 

Uncle  Johnnie  Dennis.  He  was  a  member  of 
Providence  church,  when  I  became  its  pastor — my 
first  pastorate.  His  one  book  had  been  his  Bible.  He 
knew  it;  most  of  it  he  could  quote,  giving  chapter 
and  verse.  When  in  the  homes,  at  family  worship, 
he  "read  the  Scripture,"  as  he  said,  without  opening 
the  book.  UnHke  most  old  men,  he  was  confiding, 
not  the  least  sensitive,  or  suspicious.  "A  preacher 
for  sixty  years"  is  on  the  tombstone,  kindly  erected  by 
the  members  of  Providence  Church. 

He  often  spoke  affectionately  of  his  wife,  Peggy, 
who  preceded  him  to  the  better  land. 

A  young  preacher  is  fortunate  to  have  an  old  Saint 
like  that  in  his  church,  in  the  beginning  of  his  minis- 
try. He  had  no  children,  no  home,  but  every  home  in 
the  country  was  open  to  him  whenever  he  wished  to 
enter.  As  long  as  he  could  attend  church,  he  walked 
into  the  pulpit  and  sat  with  his  head  resting  on  his 
stick,  throughout  the  service.  It  was  a  great  pleasure 
to  hear  him  pray.  He  had  a  way  of  approving :  "That's 
so,"  he'd  say,  as  the  sermon  advanced.  A  preacher 
once  remarked:  That  some  had  advanced  the  idea 
that  the  Lord  intended  Paul  to  take  the  place  of  Ju- 
das, and  that  maybe  Peter,  with  his  usual  impetuosity, 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  331 

was  a  little  previous  in  having  Matthias  elected, 
whereupon  Uncle  John,  sitting  behind  the  preacher, 
was  heard  to  say,  "Oh,  Pshaw !" 

On  my  last  visit  to  him,  feeling  that  I'd  never  see 
him  again,  I  said:  "Uncle  John,  if  I  never  see  you 
again,  I  want  to  know  what  you  have  to  say  about 
your  future."  He  looked  steadily  into  my  face  and 
said:  "I  can't  say  I  have  no  fear,  for  I  can't  keep  from 
just  a  little  bit  dreading  the  last  struggle,  but  don't 
you  reckon,  when  the  time  comes,  He  will  give  me 
overcoming  grace  for  that,  like  He  has  always  done.  I 
have  no  fears  about  what  is  to  come  over  yonder." 

"All's  right  over  there."  The  old  Saint  fell  asleep 
in  his  ninetieth  year. 

J.  H.  Creighton,  one  of  our  most  faithful  pullers  in 
Clarke  County,  has  just  passed  away.  For  many  years 
he  was  the  very  efficient  clerk  of  his  Association.  An 
old  Confederate,  who  loved  to  wear  the  Grey,  a  most 
useful  citizen  and  a  faithful  preacher.  He  was  con- 
tent to  work  without  complaint,  in  any  field  to  which 
he  might  be  called.  He  never  sought  a  place  beyond 
his  capacity  to  fill  well.  He  was  not  an  attractive 
talker,  but  he  had  a  clear  mind,  a  good  heart  and 
was  familiar  with  the  old  doctrines.  His  ministra- 
tions in  the  homes,  were  his  best  work.  He  loved 
good  people,  loved  to  entertain  them  in  his  home  and 
haul  the  traveling  preacher,  or  Secretary  about  the 
country.  His  heart  beat  true  to  every  interest  of 
the  denomination.  Clarke  County  has  had  more  bril- 
liant men  and  men  with  more  wealth,  but  it  never 
had  a  better  man,  a  more  generous  man  never  lived, 
as  far  as  his  means  would  allow.  He  filled  well  his 
humble  place  and  all  the  Association  will  mourn  his 
loss. 

L.  L.  Fox,  of  Marengo  County,  reared  in  Louisa 
County,  Virginia,  born  in  1814.  He  was  well  trained, 
but  hard  work  had  to  be  done  to  accomplish  it.     He 


332  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

studied  at  night  after  a  hard  day  at  work.  Later  he 
had  three  years  in  schools.  He  came  to  Alabama  in 
'46  and  was  pastor  at  Uniontown  until  '65.  He  was 
small  of  stature,  a  forcible  speaker,  usually  using  a 
Manuscript.  I  knew  him  in  the  seventies  at  McKin- 
ley.  All  over  Marengo  County  and  down  into  Clarke, 
his  ministerial  labors  extended.  He  had  a  cultivated 
wife ;  they  left  some  noble  daughters.  He  picked  out 
a  number  of  his  best  Manuscripts  to  be  issued  in  book 
form,  if  his  family  and  friends  thought  well  of  it. 
I  do  not  know  if  an  effort  was  ever  made  to  carry 
out  his  wishes.  In  the  days  of  which  I  write,  much 
store  was  put  on  preaching.  Brother  Fox  ranked  high 
along  that  line,  but  his  diminutive  size  and  a  rather 
cracked  voice,  prevented  his  attaining  distinction. 
Over  a  County,  with  the  worst  roads  in  the  State,  he 
suffered  without  a  murmur  and  with  little  pay  for 
years — though  it  is  probable,  his  compensation  was 
better  than  most  men  as  he  had  no  farm  and  "lived 
of  the  Gospel"  more  than  any  of  his  brethren. 

Evergreen,  one  of  the  few  towns  on  the  L.  &  N. 
that  never  received  aid  from  the  Board,  will  live  in 
the  hearts  of  the  Baptists  of  Alabama  as  the  seat  of 
the  Orphanage.  The  Baptists  there  have  cherished 
the  Institution  through  the  years  and  deserve  the 
thanks  of  the  denomination.  As  one  of  the  committee 
that  had  to  do  with  the  location  of  the  Orphanage,  I 
will  say,  now  that  it  is  to  be  moved,  I  believed  we 
were  locating  it  in  a  county  filled  with  Baptist  church- 
es. It  was  some  years  before  I  found  that  the  County 
was  not  densely  populated  and  the  Baptists  were 
not  strong.  It  goes  now  to  Pike,  where  they  are  more 
numerous ;  it  remains  to  be  seen  if  the  Institution 
fares  any  better  there.  Eternity  only  will  disclose 
how  it  has  blessed  the  world  at  its  old  home. 

One  thing  can  be  said  by  all:  John  Stewart,  its 
father,  has  been  faithful. 


A  BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  333 

Many  a  man  and  woman  even  now,  rises  up  to  call 
him  blessed.  Reared  a  poor  boy  on  a  farm,  in  a  re- 
mote section,  where  there  were  few  advantages,  by 
hard  work  and  perseverance,  he  graduated  from 
Howard  and  the  Seminary  and  with  a  great 
loving  heart  he  dedicated  all  his  life  and  powers  to 
the  work  of  His  Master.  ''Well  done,"  the  Lord  will 
say  to  John  at  the  last. 

Of  the  South  Alabama  Country  I  can  predict,  with 
confidence,  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Georgia  line, 
it  is  destined  to  be  a  great  agricultural  country.  The 
soil  is  capable  of  producing  almost  any  thing  that 
grows  out  of  the  ground  and,  with  much  of  the  South, 
it  hold  almost  a  monopoly  of  the  leading  crops,  that 
the  world  must  have.  Besides,  it  has  been  demon- 
strated that  stock  can  be  raised  more  cheaply  than 
elsewhere. 

CHAPTER  9. 

Mobile,  Alabama's  only  seaport,  is  growing  now 
more  rapidly  than  ever  in  its  past  history.  There  is 
frequent  talk  of  adding  Pensacola  and  West  Florida 
to  Alabama,  which  ought  to  have  been  done  at  first; 
but  Mobile  and  its  friends,  will  never  allow  that.  Ala- 
bama's seaport  has  been  somewhat  cut  off  from  the 
balance  of  the  State  by  the  wide  stretches  of  timber 
lands  lying  north  of  it,  but  now  the  "cut  over  land" 
is  being  occupied  and  is  destined  to  support  a  dense 
population.  Mobile  Baptists,  with  the  growth  of  the 
city,  are  growing  too.  Some  laymen  I  know  were 
a  great  force,  the  Bush  family  among  them. 

Probably  as  early  as  1850,  A.  P.  Bush  moved  from 
Pickens  County  to  Mobile.  His  name  at  once  became 
known  among  the  business  men  at  that  early  day. 
His  boys,  J.  Curtis  and  Thomas  Green,  were  destined 
to  be  widely  known  in  the  business  world  and  the  af- 


334  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

fairs  of  the  State.  They  were  both  graduated  at  the 
University  of  Mississippi.  J.  C,  the  older,  once  mayor 
of  Mobile,  was  always  among  the  leaders  in  business 
affairs.  Green,  when  a  boy,  commandant  of  the  cad- 
ets at  the  University  of  Alabama,  while  yet  a  boy-sol- 
dier, joined  the  Confederate  army  and  in  the  Battle  of 
Blakely,  was  taken  prisoner.  In  Mobile,  Anniston  and 
Birmingham  he  was  prominent  among  men  in  busness 
enterprises.  I  doubt  if  any  man  in  the  State  ever 
held  more  responsible  positions  than  T.  G.  Bush.  But 
above  all,  the  father  and  sons  were  loyal  to  their 
church.  In  Mobile  they  were  the  mainstay  of  their 
Baptist  cause  in  a  financial  way.  Faithful  in  attend- 
ance on  the  services,  loyal  to  the  pastor,  their  influ- 
ence was  felt  for  good  on  every  side.  Their  liberality 
grew  as  the  years  went  by.  Much  of  their  treasure 
was  given,  which  is  registered  only  in  heaven.  J.  C. 
was  known  as  a  princely  giver  while  he  lived  and,  it 
was  found  after  his  death,  he  had  remembered  Christ, 
his  best  Friend,  in  his  Will.  His  bequests  to  all  the 
Schools  and  the  Boards  were  liberal  indeed — $10,000 
to  the  State  Mission  Board  went  largely  into  the 
building  in  Montgomery  where  I  am  now  writing. 
In  front  of  the  building  is  hanging  a  sign : 

"BAPTIST  HEADQUARTERS 

J.  CURTIS  BUSH 

MEMORIAL" 

Another  Memorial  is  in  China,  in  a  Hospital,  and 
yet  another  at  the  Orphanage :  The  Bush  Cottage. 

His  last  contribution  made  it  possible  for  the  Bap- 
tists in  Mobile  to  erect  a  magnificent  Temple  on 
Government  Street,  where  for  many  generations  the 
Baptists  will  worship.  The  younger  brother,  T.  G., 
in  the  midst  of  great  business  and  Christian  activi- 
ties, died  suddenly  in  Birmingham. 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  335 

D.  P.  Bestor,  a  great  lawyer,  the  son  of  a  Baptist 
preacher  who  figured  conspicuously  in  the  early  days 
of  the  Baptists  in  North  Alabama,  finally  becoming 
pastor  of  St.  Francis  Street — now  the  First  Church 
in  Mobile.  He  was  proud  of  his  church  and  was  ever 
ready  to  stand  with  the  most  liberal  in  the  support 
of  the  denominational  interests. 

Judge  R.  L.  Maupin,  another  layman,  who  led  the 
forces  in  Mobile.  Moderator  of  the  Association  for 
some  years,  a  deacon  and  Sunday  School  Superintend- 
ent, indeed  ready  to  work  wherever  he  was  called 
upon.  He  had  lost  an  arm  before  the  Civil  War,  but 
out  in  Missouri,  his  native  State,  he  joined  the  Con- 
federate Cavalry.  It  required  courage  and  daring  to 
be  a  soldier  there.  He  was  too  modest  to  tell  about  his 
exploits.  He  could  easily  have  made  a  book  filled 
with  his  thrilling  experiences.  He  was  a  cattle  man 
and  died  only  a  little  while  back,  owning  a  great  cattle 
interests  in  Mississippi. 

W.  A.  Alexander,  a  deacon  of  the  First  Church,  a 
Scotchman,  was  one  of  the  faithful  who  never  missed 
an  Association.  He  was  Moderator  for  several  years. 
His  will  bequeathed  a  considerable  sum  to  the 
Lord's  Cause ;  but  alas ;  a  contest  was  threat- 
ened and  our  Boards  refused  to  go  into  the 
Courts.  This  emphasizes  the  suggestion  made 
elsewhere :  "Administer  on  your  own  estate 
while  alive  and  in  your  right  mind."  I  have  mentioned 
only  six  of  the  royal  men  who  figured  in  Baptist  af- 
fairs in  the  Gulf  City.  I  can  mention  only  one  more, 
Dr.  T.  H.  Frazier,  the  beloved  physician  and  Sunday 
School  Superintendent,  who  passed  away  only  a  little 
while  ago,  leaving  the  whole  city  in  tears.  A  multi- 
tude of  others  have  figured  in  the  ongoing  of  the 
Kingdom,  whose  name  are  recorded  in  the  archives  in 
the  Better  Land. 


336  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

Mobile  Baptists  have  been  honored  by  the  Mis- 
sionaries who  represent  them  on  the  Foreign  Field.  I 
have  spoken  of  them  in  another  place. 

W.  J.  E.  Cox,  just  passed  away,  in  his  home  in  Bir- 
mingham, after  waiting  in  much  suffering,  for  the 
summons  of  the  Master,  was  for  some  years  the  effi- 
cient pastor  of  the  old  St.  Francis,  now  the  First 
Church.  He  served  the  church  faithfully  and  well, 
and  all  of  South  Alabama  felt  the  influence  of  his 
ministry,  for  his  love  of  evangelism  led  him  to  give 
much  of  his  time  to  work  outside  of  his  field.  He 
made  a  great  contribution  to  missionary  work  when 
his  lovely  daughter  became  the  wife  of  Dr.  Adrian 
Taylor  and  went  away  to  China.  A  brave  thing  Cox  did 
while  pastor  in  Mobile,  a  Catholic  city.  He  preached 
a  series  of  sermons,  to  full  houses  in  that  city,  on  Ca- 
tholicism. These  sermons  were  printed  in  book  form. 
Not  many  pastors  attack  error  in  these  days,  indeed, 
the  bulk  of  the  membership  don't  want  them  to  do  it, 
but  to  be  faithful,  he  must  inform  his  people.  It  is 
no  unkindness  to  deal  out  facts  of  history  in  the 
proper  spirit.  The  truth  about  Catholicism  needs  to 
be  known.  Wherever  it  is  known,  it  kills  them  for 
all  time  with  thinking  people. 

H.  P.  Hansen  was  an  interesting  character  in  the 
Ministry  of  Mobile  Association.  He  lived  far  down 
in  Baldwin  County,  only  a  few  miles  above  Fort  Mor- 
gan, at  Shell  Bank.  He  was  a  Dane  and  was  proud 
of  his  Country.  After  making  a  missionary  speech, 
on  one  occasion,  telling  about  William  Cary,  after 
many  disappointments,  finally  sailing  to  India  in  a 
Danish  vessel.  Brother  Hanson  said:  "Brudder  Crump- 
ton,  ven  you  dells  de  peoples  about  Villiam  Cary  go- 
ing out  in  a  Danish  vessel,  del  dem  de  name  was 
'Princess  Maria.' "  He  pronounced  the  name  with 
such  a  rich,  musical  accent,  it  caught  me  and  I  said: 
"Brother,  I  am  glad  you  reminded  me  of  it.     If  my 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  337 

wife  ever  presents  me  with  another  girl  baby,  I  think 
I  shall  insist  on  its  being  named  'Princess  Maria.'  " 

It  was  about  his  place,  Bro.  W.  G.  Curry,  when  one 
of  the  Board's  evangelists,  got  a  boy  to  go  with  him  to 
get  some  oysters.  After  the  preacher  had  pretty 
well  filled  up  on  raw  oysters  on  the  half  shell,  they 
took  some  to  the  house  to  be  cooked.  The  good  wo- 
man of  the  home  took  special  pains  to  prepare  them 
for  the  preacher.  While  he  was  eating,  the  mother 
stepped  into  the  kitchen,  when  the  boy  slipped  up  and 
said:  "Look  here  preacher,  dad  bum  your  old  hide, 
don't  you  eat  all  of  them  oysters,  I  helped  you  git  'em." 
Curry,  the  most  modest  fellow  in  the  world,  loved  to 
tell  the  story  as  long  as  he  lived. 

T.  E.  Tucker  was  an  old  hero  who  lived  and  died  at 
Healing  Springs.  He  \vas  the  ruling  spirit  in  the  Anti- 
och  Association,  covering  Washington  and  Choctaw 
counties.  A  grim  old  Confederate  soldier  was  he.  I 
always  pictured  him  as  a  soldier,  a  man  of  frail  build, 
stoop  shouldered,  with  determined  face  and  clenched 
teeth,  with  gun  in  hand  and  fixed  bayonet,  in  a  charge. 
I  am  sure,  if  I  were  on  the  other  side  and  my  gun 
empty,  that  face,  coming  after  me  would  paralyze  me 
with  fear  and  I'd  surrender.  That  determined  look 
wasn't  put  on — it  was  born  with  him  and  character- 
ized his  life  as  a  citizen  and  a  preacher.  That  grim 
face,  when  it  was  lighted  with  a  smile,  as  it  easily  be- 
came, when  he  met  his  brethren,  was  a  benediction. 

As  a  preacher  he  had  no  superior  in  all  that  region, 
yet  he  had  the  most  humble  opinion  of  his  ability.  For 
a  time,  like  all  the  other  preachers,  he  farmed,  making 
it  his  main  dependence  for  a  living,  but  towards  the 
close  of  his  ministry,  he  taught  the  churches  their  duty 
and  received  a  more  comfortable  support.  He  was  a 
thorough  missionary  and  stood  four  square  on  all  the 
activities  of  the  denomination  and  every  moral  ques- 
tion before  the  people.     No  representative  of  any  in- 


338  A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES. 

terest  of  the  Convention  ever  attended  his  Associa- 
tion and  failed  to  receive  a  glad  welcome.  In  those 
days  a  $100  collection  was  considered  good,  after  a 
Missionary  sermon.  Tucker  was  the  first,  when  op- 
portunity was  given,  to  sing  out  his  gift  and  it  was 
always  liberal.  Frequently  the  sum  was  larger  than 
the  figures  named  and  was  certain  to  be,  if  he  was  on 
the  floor  manipulating  the  drive.  He  and  S.  O.  Y.  Ray 
were  true  yoke-fellows,  it  was  a  joy  to  see  them  meet. 
How  they  must  enjoy  one  another  now  in  the  land  of 
rest! 

Brother  Tucker  exalted  the  Preachers  Institutes  he 
attended,  for  there  he  caught  the  vision  that  made 
him  a  great  force  as  a  preacher. 

H.  M.  Mason.  Trained  under  this  man  is  his  wor- 
thy successor  in  this  very  needy  field. 

Now  I  have  swept  with  my  story  around  the  State. 
Washington,  one  of  the  biggest  counties,  will  be  a 
good  one,  with  which  to  close.  When  I  first  knew 
it,  it  was  strictly  one  of  the  Pine  Tree  Counties  of  the 
State.  In  one  such  County,  at  an  Association,  there 
was  a  preacher  who  wanted  to  be  a  missionary.  In 
a  speech,  telling  of  the  awful  destitution  he  said :  "You 
may  start  from  my  house  and  go  west  for  twenty- 
eight  miles,  before  you  see  a  church  and  that  is  about 
the  case,  go  in  whatever  direction  you  may."  All  the 
wind  was  taken  out  of  his  sails,  when  he  was  asked: 
"How  many  houses  will  you  see  along  the  roads  you 
mention  ?  Aren't  they  almost  as  scarce  as  the  church- 
es?" He  was  entirely  correct  about  the  destiution — 
the  County  was  destitute  of  most  everything,  except 
pine  trees.  Washington  is  now  almost  destitute  of 
pine  trees  and  the  "cut  over  land,"  awaits  the  coming 
of  the  home-seeking  multitudes.  Brother  J.  B.  Ham- 
berlin,  when  pastor  of  a  Mobile  church,  went,  in  a  run 
down  condition,  to  Healing  Springs.  Drinking  the 
healing  waters  and  bathing  his  one  eye,  dangerously 


A   BOOK   OF   MEMORIES.  339 

inflamed,  he  "came  seeing."  He  saw  visions  of  the 
disappearing-  pine  forests  and  the  coming  multitudes. 
He  purchased  land  and  induced  the  Antioch  Associa- 
tion to  undertake  the  establishment  of  "The  Healing 
Springs  Industrial  Academy."  After  struggling  along 
for  years,  it  was  given  to  the  State  Convention  and 
put  under  the  Mission  Board  to  operate.  The  vision 
of  its  founder  receded  into  the  future  and  all  efforts 
to  make  it  go  on  slender  resources,  failed.  Finally  the 
property  was  deeded  back  to  Mrs.  Hamberlin.  How- 
ever, the  effort  was  not  in  vain,  for  there  are  men  and 
women  all  over  that  country  who  are  blessing  the  Lord 
for  what  they  got  in  the  poor  little  school.  Some  first 
class  preachers  were  given  to  the  denomination  and 
teachers,  not  a  few,  who  got  their  inspiration  there 
and  are  serving  well  their  communities.  If  the  means 
could  have  been  secured,  to  put  up  the  needed  buildings 
and  maintained  the  school  for  a  little  while,  a  great 
community  could  have  been  established.  The  school, 
the  health-giving  water,  the  salubrious  climate  and  the 
light,  free  soil,  would  have  brought  a  fine  class  of  peo- 
ple together.  Indeed,  Brother  Hamberlin's  dreams  are 
not  impossible  of  fulfillment  yet. 

Closing.  Among  the  pine  stumps  of  this  County, 
with  its  honored  name,  Washington,  I,  Washington 
Bryan  Crumpton,  close  my  Memories.  It  has  been 
a  long  time  since  I  began  to  write  them.  Constant 
interruptions,  sometimes  caused  by  sickness,  have 
greatly  interfered.  The  preachers  and  laymen  I  have 
written  about  were  a  grand  body  of  men.  How  they 
helped  me !  God  only  knows  how  I  appreciate  it  and 
some  sweet  day,  they  will  hear  the :  "Inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  Breth- 
ren, ye  did  it  unto  me."  Hundreds  are  yet  alive,  I  want- 
ed to  speak  of.  Not  many,  there  were,  who  were  vicious 
towards  me.  I  can  say,  with  all  sincerity,  I  never  cher- 
ished any  malice  against  them.  I  wasn't  built  that  way. 


INDEX 


PERIOD  OF  BOYHOOD  TO  EIGHTEEN-^ 

From    English-Irish    Stock    3 

Diagnose  the  Boy 5 

Uncle  Jim  Andrews  and  His  Slaves 7 

First  Religious  Impressions 9 

First  Lesson  about  Horrors  of  Liquor  Traffic 11 

Move  to  Pine  Apple  12 

Death  Invades  the  Home  13 

Keeps    Store    15 

Moved  to  Cotton  Farm 16 

"Coin'    to    Meetin'"   18 

First  Vision  of  Outside  World 20 

Talk  of  War  21 

PERIOD  OF  TRAVEL— 

Hov^  I  Began   to   Lecture 22 

Saving  New  York  City  from  Flames 24 

Off  to  Sea 26 

A  Job  as  Hostler 28 

First  Lesson   in  Banking 30 

"Hurrah  for  Jeff  Davis" — didn't  say  it 33 

Taking  Back  Track  35 

"With  Clenched  Teeth  Determined  to  go  South"  37 

Trip  from  North  Began  March  6,  1862 38 

A  Lesson  in  Shut   Mouth 39 

On    Banks    of    the    Mississippi 43 

The  Missouri  Home  Guards 45 

"The    Road    Full    of    Yankees" 46 

"Curious"  and  "Curiouser"  Brothers 48 

At   "Uncle   McCullough's"  50 

In    the    Overflow    53 

A  Prisoner  on  Parole 56 

Sick   and    Starving   59 

Registered   at  Hotel   like  a  Gentleman 62 

Trip  Ends  April  23,  1862. 

PERIOD  OF  CIVIL  WAR— 

Enlisted  May  9,  1862 — a  year  late 66 

First  Battle  September  19th  69 

Made  a  Cut  Off  70 

Siege   of  Vicksburg   72 

"Grape  Vine"  News  74 

"Mister  Yank,  I  Believe  You  Lied" 76 

A  Gala-Day  in  New  Orleans 78 

A  Sure  Cure  for  Sea-Sickness 79 

The  Trio   Going  to   Marry 81 

At   Resaca,  Georgia   82 

A  Hand-Full  of  Brains 85 

Old  "Bill  Nick" 87 

"Drunkenness    and    Foolhardiness"    89 

Three  Battles  in  One  Week 91 


An  Ail-Night  March,  Alone 93 

A  Slow  Foot-Race  With  Bullets 94 

Going  Through    Florence    95 

Franklin   and   Nashville   96 

A  Dip  on  a  Cold  December  Morning 98 

A  Cruel  Joke  on  Homefolks 99 

Hung  on  Iron  Pickets  at  Columbus,  Georgia 101 

A  Short-Lived  Honor  103 

CALL  TO  THE  MINISTRY— 

God's    Folding-Doors    104 

B.  H  .Crumpton  and  Jonathan   Bell 105 

The  Way  I  Tell  It 107 

A  Bolt  Out  of  a  Clear  Sky 108 

John  Latimer,  My  Pastor 109 

J.  B.  Hamberlin  111 

God  Kept  Calling  Until  Fully  Answered 113 

"Let  This   Meeting  Settle   It" 115 

To   My  Secularized  Brother   116 

PERIOD  OF  MY  MINISTRY— 

A   Missionary  in   a  Kentucky  Association 117 

After  Eight  Years  Returns   to  Alabama 118 

Old  Providence  became  Home 119 

Baptist  Rallies  Born  There 120 

A  Farmer-Preacher  121-124 

Begins  to  Get  Acquainted 124 

1874  the  Year  When  Things  Began  to  Move 125 

Camden    127 

T.  M.  Bailey 128-131 

An  Unrecorded  Convention   Sermon 133 

My  Ministry  in   Meridian,  Miss. 134 

Comfort  From  an  Old  Methodist 135 

Incidents  of  Yellow  Fever  Epidemic 135-136 

Five  Weeks  in  the  Saddle 137-138 

The  India  Rubber  Sermon  139 

Nine   Months'  Report   140 

Not  a  Soul-Saver  the  Grief  of  My  Life 141 

How  I  Came  to  Believe  in  the  B.  Y.  P.  U 142 

MISCELLANEA— 

The  Story  of  My  Father 143-145 

In    Kentucky    145 

Another  Chapter  146 

The  Gold,   Silver  and  Whitsitt   Controversies 148 

Criticising  the  Pastor  149 

A  Kentucky  Speech  Tried  on  a  Stingy  Alabamian        149 

My  First  and  Last  Religious  Controversy 150-153 

Au  Autocratic  Preacher  in  the  Piney  Woods 152 

Repelled  Attacks  on  Board 154-155 

Great  Women   Workers   156-160 

Missionaries   and   Medicals,  I  Have  Known 160  163 

First  Attendance  on  Southern  Bap.  Convention__163-165 

The  Sad  Story  of  Pelham 165-167 

Bailey  and  Colportage  167-170 

Make  a  Will,  Do  It  Now 170-172 

Howard  College,  the  Last  Half  Century 173-183 

The   Hard    Side   183-184 

How  a  Missionarv  Was  Found 185 


Some  Things  An  Alabama  Girl  Did  in  China 186-188 

The  Story  of  Prohibition 188-201 

BAPTISTS  OF  TENNESSEE  VALLEY  AND  THE 
MOUNTAINS— 

Beginnings  of  Alabama  and  Baptist  History 202 

School    Property   204-205 

A  Remarkable  Conversion  205 

The  Story  of  Florence 207-212 

A  Concrete  Case  for  Inter  and  Federated  Church 

People 213-216 

In  a   Mountain  Association  217 

One  of  My  Sledge-Hammers 218 

With  C.  W.  Hare  at  Another  Association 220-223 

A  Methodist  Preacher's  Remarks  223 

Anniston  a  Gem  of  the  Mountains 228 

Gadsden  Another  Gem 230 

Birmingham   238 

The  First  Drive  238 

BAPTISTS  OF  CENTRAL  ALABAMA— 

Great  Wealth  in  Slaves  239 

Great   Advantages    in    Schools 

The  Story  of  the  Paper 239 

What    the    Board    Did    at    Birmingham    on    the 

Northern   Border  and  at   Montgomery,   etc 

The   Sad  Story  of  Greensboro 242 

A    Remarkable    Tribute   of    Dr.   Otts    to    the    De- 
ceased   Pastor  244 

A  Good  Man  Making  Race  for  Governor 253 

Frost's    Monument   257 

"His   Style   of  Preaching" 258 

Becoming    Secretary    259 

A  Strong  Man  Rattled  by  the  Tenderfoots 260 

Reminiscences   Lost  261 

The  Champion  for  Ministerial  Aid 262 

The  Centennial  in  1876 — A  Rich  Man  Ruined  Our 

Plans 266 

A  "Dry  Bones"  Sermon 271 

An  Association  Most  Honored 273 

The  Blacksmith's  Accounts,  scoured  out 274 

How  Liquor  Brought  Poverty  to  One  Home 275 

Members  Advised  to  Ask  for  Letters 278 

God's  Plans  Dove-Tail  Into  Each  Other 281 

When  Real  Usefulness  Begins  with  Preacher  116,  284,  287 

Last  Words 254-293 

"We  Won't  and  You  Shan't" 295 

Some  Moderator  was  He  296 

"Knowing   a   Thousand    Things"    and    "Knowing 

Something  About    a   Thousand   Things" 303 

God  inclines,  but  may  be  resisted 305 

BAPTISTS  OF  SOUTH  ALABAMA— 

Bethlehem  the   First  Association   306 

Baptists  Abound  in  Wiregrass  and  all  South  Ala.  306 

Baptist  Congress  at  Troy 306 

When  I  Was  Inspired 308 

Beginning  of   Dothan   155 

A   Set-Back  at  a  Baptist  Rally 310 


The  Secretary's  Vision 311 

My  First  $1000  Check 313 

"Ten  Cents  a  Head" 314 

Accused  of  Runnning  from  a  Collection — but — „  315 

Newton  the  Gem  of  the  Wiregrass 316 

Tate  a  Born  Teacher  317 

Secondary  Schools  Most  Important 318 

My  Old  Hardshell  Friend  319 

New    Testament    Evangelism    321 

Taken  to  Task  by  a  Moderator 323 

A  Good  Deacon  Blessed  in   Spite  of  the  Pout«__  324 
Pastor  Thirty-five  Years  and  Received  Not  a  Cent  324 
Secretary's  Business  to  Find  out  Reasons  for  Op- 
position      326 

"Overcoming  Grace  at   the   last" 331 

Evergreen  and  the  Orphanage 332 

A  Brave   Pastor  in   Mobile 336 

"Preacher,  Dad  Burn  Your  Old  Hide" Z?>7 

An  Embarrassing  Question  Asked  a  Candidate  for 

the   Missionary  Job  338 

Closing,  After  a  Swing  Around  the  State 339 

PREACHERS  AND  LAYMEN— 

Alexander,  W.   A.   _  335 

Appleton,  John  A. 235 

Averett,   S.   W.   280 

Adams,  W.  Y.  230 

Anderson,  G.   S.  242 

Baird,  D.  O.  271 

Baber.  E.  F.  299 

Bishop,  Matthew  325 

Bateman,  B.  222 

Bledsoe,  W.  C. 297 

Bledsoe,  John  F.  298 

Bomar,   Paul   V.  281 

Brewer,  Geo.  E. 263 

Bestor,  D.  P.  335 

Bush,  A.  P. 2,2,2> 

Bush,  J.   Curtis  333 

Bush,  T.  Green Z2>3 

Burns,  A.  E. 287 

Bailey,  T.  M. 127 

Bell,  Jonathan 167 

Beeson,  J.  J.,  225 

Barnes,  J.   E.  233 

Barbour,  T.  M. 301 

Caldwell,  J.  R. 275 

Carson,  Robert  324 

Calloway,  P.  M.  316 

Cleveland.  W.  C.  247 

Clements,   Sam   304 

Creighton,  J.  H. 331 

Cox.  W.  J.  E.   336 

Cnmbie.  R.  A.  J.   274 

Curry,  J.   H.   271 

Curry,   W.   G.   300 

Crumpton,   B.  H.   105 

Cochran,  C.  M. 291 


Cox,  J.  E.  235 

Crook,  James  A. 228 

Davis,  John   T.   313 

Davis,  W.  A 228 

Davis,  W.  T.  294 

Davidson,  A.  C. 258 

Dennis,  John   330 

Dawson,  L.  O. 277 

Dill,  Dr.  Thos.  J. 180 

Eager,  Geo.  B.  264 

Ellis,  B.  F. 290 

Frost,  J.   M.  255 

Fortune,  J.    M.  264 

Fox,  L.  L.  331 

Forrester,  Ben 313 

Forrester,   E.  J.   189 

Frazier,    Robert   280 

Gunn,  Jackson 224 

Gwaltney,  L.  R. 279 

Gray,  B.  D.  238 

Harbin,  L.  B. 230 

Hamberlin,  J.   B.   111 

Harris,  J.  G. 262 

Haralson,  Jonathan   251 

Hanson,  H.  P. 336 

Henderson,    Samuel    271 

Hale,  P.  T 238 

Hardy,  A.   R.  243 

Kierce,  G.  W.  327 

Johnson,    Lewis    288 

Lloyd,  W.  E.  299 

Lovelace,  Jessie  B.  179 

Lyon,    David    126 

Longcrier,  J.  H. 234 

Lambert,  J.  A. 323 

Lowry,  John   G.   238 

Martin,  A.  L. 315 

Mallory,  H.  S.  D. 252 

Maupin.   R.   L.  335 

Miles,  George   247 

Mosely,    P.   L.   318 

Montague,  A.   P.  268 

Murfee,  J.  T.  179 

McCord.  J.  M. 287 

McWilliams,    Miles    328 

McQueen,  George  326 

Parker,  William  A. 269 

Patrick.  Robert  G. 281 

Pratt,  R.  H 286 

Pettus,  R.  E.  227 

Purser,  D.  L 279 

Purser.   John    308 

Prestridge.  John  N.   300 

Pritchett,    William    327 

Quinn,,R.  L.  226 

Robertson,  W.  G.  273 

Ramsey,  D.   M.  329 

Ray,  S.  O.  Y.  282 


Roby,  Z.  D.  298 

Renfroe,  J.  J.  D.  265-268 

Riley,  B.   F.   125 

Schramme,   H.    R.   254 

Scott,  J.  A.  229 

Shackelford,   Josephus    225 

ShafTer  J.    P.   295 

Stakely,  Chas.  A. 302 

Smythe,  E.  T.  229 

Sims,  A.  T.  320 

Stewart,  John   332 

Tucker,  T.  E. Z37 

Tichenor.   I.   T,   276 

Teague,  E.  B.  260 

Underwood,  N.  C.  312 

Wright.  J.  C  228 

Wharton,  M.  B.  285 

Woods,  W.  C  232 

Wilkerson,  W.  W.   179 

Wilkes,  W.  302 

Winkler,  E.  T. 238 

Waldrop,  A.  J.  234 

Yarbrough,  W.  F.  270 

Yarbrough,  J.   S.  302 

CALIFORNIA  PREACHERS— 

Fitzgerald,  O.  P. 33 

Scott,  Dr. 34 

A  FEW  NOBLE  WOMEN— 

Hamilton,  Mrs.  A.  T  159 

Kelly,  Willie 185 

Cox,  Addie  159 

Patrick,   Laura    Lee   160 

Metcalfe,   Clyde   160 

Davie  Lois,   Mrs.   Napier 159 

-White,  Mrs.  Flossie  158 

Huey,   Alice    160 

Ward,  Julia   158 

Mallory,   Kathleen    152 

Foster,  Martha 159 

MISSIONARIES— 

McCollum,    John    160 

Bouldin,  George  161 

MEDICAL  MISSIONARIES— 

Ayers,  Dr.  T.  W.  

Taylor,  Adrian   161 

Taylor,  Richard   162 


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Crunipton 

A  book  of  memories 

ffiSr°^ 

